


Commander in Chief

by fictorium



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Politics, American Politics, American President AU, Backstory, Bisexual Kara Danvers, Environmentalism, Eventual Kara Danvers/Cat Grant, F/F, Gun Violence, Minor Character Death, Political Parties, Politics, President Cat, Sorkinverse, Washington D.C., minor past supercorp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2018-10-12 03:23:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 73,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10480992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: 45th President of the United States, Catherine Jane Grant, is entering the third year of her first term. Enter Myriad International, the country's most formidable environmental lobbying group, and their newest recruit: Kara Danvers.With an ill-timed remark in a White House meeting, Kara makes an impression on Cat, who isn't about to let being President stop her pursuing the first woman in years to intrigue her. Can they overcome their political conflict to get closer?Plot broadly lifted from Sorkin's 'The American President' :)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Manip by the incomparable @xxtorchxx - love you, Torchy!
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

 

“Vigilance is moving,” the lead agent announced, and Cat rolled her eyes at the goddamned Secret Service name. The usual flurry activity surrounded her morning stroll from the Residence to the Oval, but the agents did at least keep the jostling to a minimum. When she reached the outer office and Siobhan stood to greet her, Lucy Lane finally broke through the throng to grab Cat’s attention.

“Good morning, Madam President. I just had a few questions about last night’s speech-”

“Good morning, Lucy,” Cat interrupted, brushing a piece of lint from her Prada blazer. “You know, in some civilized countries they let a person respond before starting on a list of their flaws.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Lucy looked contrite for all of a second, her iPad hugged close to her chest like a shield against Cat’s disapproval. “Only I was watching at home, big glass of wine, bowl of popcorn, a real Sunday night treat. So you can imagine my surprise when the section I was so looking forward to - the best section of the speech that I wrote - just didn’t come out of your mouth at all.”

“Lucy,” Hank chastized, coming in from his office to greet them in the Oval. In his black suit he might have been mistaken for an agent at first glance, his military build and bearing barely changed by civilian life. “It might be nice to let the president sit down before listing your grievances.”

“Oh that’s okay, Mr Henshaw. I can’t wait to hear how I’ve disappointed our resident idealist this time,” Cat let the note of warning ring out loud and clear, and Lucy reconsidered. “Does anyone have polling numbers for me yet?”

“I do,” Winn announced from the door, waving his tablet over his head. “Madam President, you might want to sit down for this one.”

“I thought we were betting on my numbers going up?” Cat was instantly suspicious. She should have known last night’s speech was too late to affect things, and Lucy was going to come back to her very valid point about the cut section like a dog with a bone.

“Oh, they did,” Winn was almost laughing as he said it. “Although Lucy predicted we’d take a hit, but most of us were quietly confident. We went up to 63!”

“63?” Cat gasped, sitting heavily in her chair. “We haven’t been that high since right after Inauguration. Right?”

“That’s right,” Lucy confirmed, high-fiving Hank and Winn in turn. James appeared just in time to join the celebrations, ready to gather the relevant information for the press briefing. He didn’t get a chance to ask before Lucy landed her coup de grâce. “That’s huge. Which means, Madam President, that it’s all the more bizarre that you would suddenly drop the section on gun control.”

“Well, I thought with me being the President and all…”

“Ma’am?”

“I have my reasons, Lucy. You really want to find fault when we have a 63% approval rating?”

“No, I do not,” Lucy admitted, clearly tabling the point for another go-round. “Hank, are you dealing with these environmental protestors, or did you need one of us to take it?”

“I’ve got a meeting with their lobbyists before lunch,” Hank answered. “You all have more than enough work to do, why don’t you go and get on with that?”

“Madam President,” James interjected. “I just wanted to clarify something about your speech last night. Some of the press had advance copies-”

“Nice vacation, Mr Olsen?” Cat diverted him for a moment. “It’s not often I can get any of you out of the door for a whole week, least of all to somewhere as chaotic as Metropolis.”

“It was great.” He certainly looked more well-rested. “Should I just turn everyone towards the new polling if they ask?”

“It’s almost like you people get paid to have bright ideas.” Cat nodded in approval. “Hank’s right, you should all be off chasing… truth, justice, and the American Way. Go, go! Yes, Siobhan?”

“You have the UN ambassador in a minute,” Siobhan informed her as the staff trooped out of the Oval. “But in the meantime, you forgot to sign Carter’s permission slip. Their night at the Observatory has been approved by Secret Service, so you can sign off.”

“But Carter’s upset he didn’t have it this morning?”

“Just a little,” Siobhan confirmed, notepad at the ready. “He’s home just after three, and you have fifteen minutes between the Treasury Secretary and your Gaza briefing? I could schedule-”

“Make sure I’m back in the Residence then,” Cat instructed. “Preferably with a pen and the permission slip, and that Mozart sheet music I had you pick up for him? Milk and cookies optional, but it might show willing on my part.”

“I’m sure Carter understands, President Grant.”

“I hope he does,” Cat sighed, checking her watch. “Shall we surprise the ambassador by being on time?”

 

* * *

 

“Alex!” Kara yelled, before toppling the Jenga tower of boxes to the floor. Moving was absolutely the worst. It had taken half an hour just to find two things that sort of went together, and the blue dress was a little more daring than she intended for a first impression, leaving Kara to hope the beige cardigan over it would help tone things down.

“If I’d known you were going to be late, I would have Ubered,” Kara grumbled when Alex finally appeared in the living room with coffee.

“We need to get this place fixed up,” Alex observed, handing over a latte. Hers was in a to-go cup but she had a travel mug for Kara’s, emblazoned with the logo of her new workplace. “Come on, traffic’s a bitch. Can’t be late on your first day. Astra said to drop you there, she ‘does not have time to babysit’.”

“You’d think getting a job in the same firm as my aunt would get me a little nepotism,” Kara groaned. “Wait, drop me there? As in…”

“The White House, yeah. Don’t worry, government plates get me closer than Uber could hope for. You won’t be late if I drop you on the corner of H.”

“I feel sick,” Kara confessed. “I can’t believe this is what I’m doing on my first day.”

“You had to figure your aunt was gonna test you one way or another,” Alex reminded her. “That’s what you get for coming in as the rising star.”

Kara groaned in agreement and followed Alex out to her waiting SUV. Kara felt suddenly glad they weren’t going to the office, since driving anything other than a hybrid there was sure to be professional suicide. She’d pick up her new Prius at the weekend, not having needed a car at all in Metropolis.

All too soon they arrived at the corner of H and Pennsylvania Avenue, not even Dupont Circle could slow them down. Kara leaned across the front seat to hug her sister and then hopped out into the throng of government employees and lobbyists scattering to their impressive DC jobs, reminding herself that at long last she was one of them. How many people got to sit in on a meeting with Hank Henshaw - the president’s Chief of Staff - on their very first day? Despite Astra’s often cold demeanor, Kara couldn’t help feeling that other people would not be thrown in at this particular deep end, so it had to be an honor of sorts.

Astra was already waiting at the gatehouse, her pass issued and hanging around her neck on a red lanyard. Immaculately presented as ever in a dark grey pantsuit with a crisp white shirt underneath, she had her hair scraped back into an impressive bun, just one strand falling out of place, drawing attention to the white streak next to it.

“Kara,” Astra greeted her formally, extending a hand as though they were meeting on the ropeline at a campaign event. “I did attempt to get your pass, but you have to present your own identification. Inefficient, but I suppose tight security is to be expected.”

“Hi, Aunt Astra,” Kara considered going for a hug over the handshake, but it didn’t feel entirely professional. “I’ve got my license right here, let’s do this. Are you excited?”

“The White House isn’t all that exciting after ten or twenty times,” Astra told her, but she forced a little smile in the name of family, or duty, or maybe just politeness at the way Kara was practically vibrating on the sidewalk. They approached the gatehouse in tandem, Kara brimming over at her first authentic White House moment.

“I’m Kara Danvers,” she explained to the smiling guard. “I’m from Metropolis, but I just moved here to start working with Myriad-”

“He doesn’t want your life story, Kara,” Astra interrupted.

“Sure I do,” the guard contradicted with a wink towards Kara. “This your boss?”

“She’s also my aunt,” Kara confided, drawing an impatient tut from Astra. “So what do you say? Am I on the list?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a nightclub, but sure,” the guard answered, laughing now. “One Kara Danvers, of Myriad International. Sign here and I’ll get you one of those pretty red ribbons for around your neck.”

“Thank you,” Kara signed the visitor screen and accepted the pass gratefully. “You have a great day now.”

“Kara,” Astra warned as they were buzzed through the gate and began the walk towards the north-west entrance. “You won’t get anything done in Washington by lingering over small talk and niceties. You have to show you mean business.”

Kara bit her tongue. She’d been raised to think quite differently, but being with Astra always made her miss her mother more profoundly, and it didn’t seem right to bring up one of the many ways in which the twin sisters had disagreed. Pulling the red cord over her head, Kara sped up to keep pace with her aunt.

Another security desk, a checkpoint and metal detector after that, and finally Kara and Astra were ushered to the outer office of the White House Chief of Staff. A brisk, short-haired woman eyed them warily from her desk, her military bearing at odds with the black skirt suit she wore.

“Hi,” Kara said with a little wave after the intern responsible for collecting them had departed. “I’m Kara Danvers and this is-” She was interrupted by a sharp jab of Astra’s elbow to her ribs.

“Susan Vasquez,” the secretary replied, glaring at Astra for a moment before offering Kara a conspiratorial smile. “And I’ve met Ms Inze before, you don’t need to introduce her. Hank will be with you in a moment.”

“No rush,” Kara assured her. “I’m still soaking it all in, you know? How much do you just love coming to work here every day, Susan?”

“Depends on the day,” Susan answered, before being interrupted by a ringing phone. She gave an apologetic smile before picking up. “White House Chief of Staff’s office.”

“Now when we get in there,” Astra took the pause in conversation to issue her directives. “I’ll do the talking. Henshaw is going to shoot us down, but we planned for that. Smile, nod, and we’ll be back at the office to set up your new email account before the coffee they serve you has time to cool.”

“... sure,” Kara agreed. She’d stayed up way too late memorizing talking points and poring over the latest data, but she had to figure that they wouldn’t expect her to charge in like a bull in a china shop on her first day. Her aunt liked to be in control, and Kara was perfectly good at following orders. Something buzzed gently on Susan’s desk, and she put her call on hold.

“Mr Henshaw will see you now. The panel is just assembling.”

Astra led the way, opening the door as though striding into her own home. Kara followed, wide-eyed at the scope and grandeur of the Chief of Staff’s office. One half of the room was dominated by an antique conference table, ten chairs around it, most of which are already occupied. She takes her seat second on the left, at Astra’s side. A moment later Hank finished with whatever pile of documents he was signing and came to greet them all, taking his place at the table’s head.

“Thank you all for joining me this morning. I know there’s an Environmental Summit next month, but the president wanted me to thank you all for your advice and consultation over the past few months. With all the relevant facts we’re now ready to put a Bill together, with the hope that it will be out of committee within six weeks.”

“That is excellent news,” Astra told him, her cold demeanor entirely melted. “We all understand that some compromises will have to be made.”

“Although not on the emissions reductions,” Kara chimed in, surprised at the lack of fight her aunt was showing. “I think I speak for all of us when we say that was a minimum, not an, um, aspiration.”

Her bravado wilted when every person in the room turned to stare at her.

“You must be Kara Danvers,” Hank said, his smile not entirely unkind. “I was a great fan of your mother’s, and I was fortunate to hear your father speak a few years ago. I, for one, am honored to be working with you. They’re greatly missed.”

Astra laid a soothing hand on Kara’s shoulder, and she was glad of it. No matter how normalized her loss seemed to be, every new person with fond memories of her parents was a new emotional challenge to overcome.

“Thank you. They were fans of the president, too,” Kara told him. “When she was Governor, I mean.”

“I’m sure we’ll all be happy to endorse the president’s Bill,” an older man across the table interrupted, clearly wanting some of the limelight. “When might we see a draft?”

“Soon, Dirk,” Hank promised.

“You don’t have copies now?” Kara was astounded at the news. “But isn’t that what this meeting is about?”

“We can’t all be as efficient as you were back in Metropolis, Ms Danvers,” Hank teased. “You’ll find things a little slower over here in the public sector.”

“I don’t work in the public sector,” Kara argued right back. “I’m a lobbyist, and I can’t do my job if the White House won’t provide us with the relevant information.”

“I see your reputation for getting things done was no exaggeration,” Dirk chimed in. “We were sorry to lose out on you to Myriad, young lady.”

“Family ties,” Astra answered for her. “Please, forgive my niece Hank. She’s only just gotten to town, and I daresay she hasn’t caught up on all our latest correspondence yet.”

“No, I have,” Kara continued, consulting her notes. She fiddled with her glasses, which had slipped down her nose just a little. “And every report, every metric, every country whose top scientists were consulted has given us that minimum standard. I bet if we saw a draft bill, we’d see the administration is only asking for about 50% of what’s necessary. So as not to lose votes in California and Michigan. Or did we all agree to forget that next year is an election year? I sure didn’t.”

“We would like,” Hank began, before changing tack. “No, we expect the endorsement of Myriad International for the Bill we think will actually pass the House and Senate. We’re all adults, and we can agree that there’s no point in sinking a lot of good initiatives over one number.”

“You think we’ll roll over on this because someone’s finally agreed to clean up the water in Flint?” Kara answered. “Something that should have been done five years ago, without any kind of lobby needing to get involved at all? I appreciate your boss didn’t cause that problem, she inherited it. But if she can’t fix problems like that, she might as well be the President of Disneyland for all the good she’s doing.”

“Well,” came an amused drawl from somewhere behind Kara. “I don’t know, I hear the lines at Space Mountain are much shorter these days. Don’t I get credit for that?”

Everyone in the room gets to their feet, pushing their chairs back and straightening their spines. Kara is the last to react, turning to face the speaker.

Who was none other than President Catherine Grant. Kara closed her eyes, praying for a meteor to hit her. Space refused to provide, and so she opened her eyes again.

“Mrs… Your Honor… Madam President,” she settled on eventually. “I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“How’s it going Hank?” The president asked, a twinkle in her eye. “You had to call in the Marines yet?”

“Not yet, ma’am.”

“Madam President, my name is Astra Inze, from Myriad? We met at the fundraiser for Senator Lord last month? I’d just like to apologize for my niece-”

“She’s your niece?”

“Yes, and she’s just joined us at Myriad. I’m afraid she hasn’t taken many meetings on this level, and what she meant to say was-”

Cat held up a hand, silencing Astra. “So you’re the infamous Keira Danvers? I’ve heard you’re quite a hero back in Metropolis. The Governor complains about your triumphs at least once a month. First the schools, then the crime rate. Now you’re going to save the rainforests, is that right?”

“Myriad is an environmental organisation,” Kara confirmed, just about sweating through her shirt with the stress of it all. “And it’s Kara, actually. But like I was saying, I really am sorry-”

“Siobhan, can you show Keira through to the rec room? You don’t mind if we have a quick word in private, do you?” Cat asked, as though Kara had any say in the matter at all when the leader of the free world was requesting her presence. So she nodded, struck temporarily dumb, and let the dark-haired woman lead her out into the carpeted hallway and around a curved wall towards an office.

“You know, I can just go,” Kara offered. “If she just wants to yell, I can skip that part.”

“Oh, it’s going to be so much worse than yelling,” Siobhan supplied with a sadistic little smile. “Here we are,” she announced, opening a door that blended in a little too well with the paintwork. “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a drink?”

“No thanks,” Kara replied, stepping through the door. “Any more coffee and I might pee right here on the… carpet.” Which would make it the carpet of the Oval Office. The place she’d dreamed about seeing since her mother first told her about it as a child. It hadn’t been available on the tours for years, not even when the president was out of the country. Kara couldn’t believe she was finally standing there at last.

A moment later, yet another door opened and the president herself came striding in. She wore a two-tone dress in black and blue, the American flag pin in place over her heart, and one of those signature necklaces the press tried to divine meanings of around her neck. Those soft blonde curls fell neatly on either side of her face, and as she took up position standing behind her desk, President Grant picked up a pair of reading glasses and put them on to glance at some papers waiting for her.

It absolutely felt like a don’t speak unless spoken to situation, and yet Kara felt her mouth start to move anyway.

“President Grant, I really do apologise. It’s my first day with Myriad and I was trying to prove to my aunt that I can be taken seriously, that I can do a good job for our organization. I let that go too far and I am so embarrassed, mortified really, that I let that descend into a personal insult towards you.”

“Are you quite done, Keira?” The president pulled her glasses back off, running the tip of them over her bottom lip as she took in Kara’s ensemble, really seeing her for the first time. “That blue was a bold choice. Don’t get a lot of color in Washington.”

“And not a lot of people of color in your Cabinet either,” Kara went right back on the defensive, slapping her hand over her mouth. “Is there a trapdoor, maybe? Or can you ask the Secret Service to step in and put me out of my misery?”

“Oh, they’ll do that if I ask,” President Grant agreed, stalking her way around the impressive desk that dominated even in such a large room. Unlike the walnut and mahogany ones that other presidents had, hers was glass and light wood, toned in perfectly to the colors of the space. It made it look like her personal domain, something that had never been shared with anyone else, despite the 44 men who came before her. “And you have a point on the Cabinet. When I’m re-elected we’ll push harder on nominations.”

“If you’re re-elected,” Kara argued back. “Which will be harder to do if you keep alienating your allies on the left. Like the environmental lobby.”

“As a Democrat with 63% approval rating, that’s not how it looks from over here,” Cat pointed out. “If I want to turn that into 73%, telling the environmental lobby to go hug a tree would only help my cause. Luckily for you, I believe in science more than spite.”

“That is lucky,” Kara agreed. “And science says you should call emissions to be capped at-”

“You’re asking for 10% more than I can ever get passed.” The president leaned against the front of her desk, gesturing with her reading glasses in hand. “We floated your numbers, and we’re 34 votes short with that cap in the Bill.”

“You keep all that information in your head?” Kara blurted. She knew the staffers traded in information at that level of detail, but her impression of presidents had always been that they’re handed the talking points on the way into the meeting.

“Numbers are easy,” Cat answered with a shrug. “It’s remembering the second verse of songs that gets me.”

“Right.” Kara fidgeted with the button on her cardigan, before settling for gripping the back of the sofa. “I really do apologize. As a professional political operative, and a guest at the White House, it was inexcusable.”

“Do I seem angry to you?”

“...no?”

“I’m not.” The president tilted her head, indicating Kara should approach. It took a frightening amount of concentration not to faceplant on the few hesitant steps. “You’re not wrong, Ms Danvers. God knows I used to be an optimist myself, but I hear you get results, too.”

Kara nodded. She worked hard, and the results spoke for themselves.

“So get the first 24 votes,” Cat instructed. “You’re a lobbyist? Lobby. Do that by the State of the Union and I’ll get you the other ten. Do we have a deal?”

“Is this how you do business?” Kara asked. “Private deals, no witnesses?”

“Well you’re forgetting the office is probably bugged,” Cat said with a wicked smile. “I’ll have my secretary put it in writing, if that sweetens the deal. This is important to me, and I can see it’s important to you.”

“It is.” Kara extended her hand, praying her palm wasn’t sweaty. “But in a civilized society, when two people make a deal? They shake on it.”

She expected the brushing contact of a politician’s handshake, the briefest of touches like on a ropeline with a hundred hands waiting to press the flesh. Instead, President Grant took Kara’s hand firmly in her own, squeezing lightly and gripping Kara’s wrist with her other hand.

“Then we have a deal.” She held on just a moment longer than necessary, and Kara started to feel a little faint. “Did you get to eat in the meeting? Hank’s idea of catering is lousy, and I skipped breakfast. I can get you coffee, a donut? Although we have these cupcakes that the pastry chef whips up for me… I don’t usually share.”

“That would… no thank you,” Kara declined with considerable effort, her mouth watering at the thought. “I’m a little thrown off by the location, but I don’t want you to mistake that for me not having the courage to fight on this issue. I’m going to get those 24 votes, Madam President. And if you don’t honor our deal, we’ll go looking for a new Democrat in the primaries.”

Cat Grant smiled at her almost in wonder, as though discovering Kara could speak another language fluently.

“I’d expect nothing less. Challenging a sitting president is a risky strategy.”

Kara made her way towards one of the room’s many doors. “I’m nothing special,” she insisted. “I’m just a normal person with a job to do. But if I decide on that strategy, no one can stop me.” Except for her aunt, possibly.

“Actually, they can if you go through that door,” Cat countered, heading back behind her desk. “The sniper on the roof opposite will, anyway. That’s a restricted area.”

“Of course.” Kara turned around, trying to get her bearings. Eventually the president took pity and indicated the door Kara had entered through, gesturing with her pen. Blushing brightly enough to land a 747, Kara slipped out into the corridor. No sign of Siobhan, but Astra was making her way down the corridor in long strides.

“ _What_ was that?”

“I don’t know,” Kara confessed. “I really don’t know.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> President Grant checks in with her precocious son, and Kara relives her mortification with Alex. What better week, then, for Cat to reach out with an invitation Kara has no intention of refusing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait but this chapter just demanded to be finished and posted so here ya go!

“Louis Armstrong eat your heart out,” Cat said from the doorway of Carter’s room, the moment he paused in his scales. He set his trumpet down on the bed beside him and gave her a smile. A moment later, he picked it back up and played a mocking few bars of ‘Hail to the Chief’.

“Hey, mom,” he greeted her when she burst out laughing. “I guess Siobhan told you about the permission slip, huh?”

“I’m sorry, Carter,” she told him, sitting on the bed beside him. “I was more on top of this stuff as Governor, wasn’t I?”

“Well, that was just California,” he forgave her quickly, tucking the offered permission slip into the schoolbag that lay at his feet. “Now you’ve got the whole country. And well, the world I guess.”

“I don’t like to mess these things up,” she insisted. “You can always tell me at dinner, darling. Don’t feel you have to go through my secretary like everyone else.”

“I know.” He looked at the papers still in her hand. “What’s that?”

“The Mozart you were talking about when we came home from the Kennedy Center.” Cat handed it over, enjoying his excitement. “Though I wish you’d spend a little more time on your English homework.”

“I’m never gonna be a writer like you, mom. Or any great communicator.”

“Music is communication,” she reminded him. “And you know I want you to follow your dreams. You just need to keep your grades up in the non-dream subjects too, okay?”

“Got time for milk and cookies?” He asked, trying not to look hopeful. “The steward just brought them in. He brought one of your cupcakes.”

“This entire staff is trying to get me fat,” Cat groaned, moving towards the tray on the occasional table. “But I suppose one can’t hurt.”

“One condition?”

“Name it, darling.”

“No speeches about how the English language got you where you are today.”

Cat laughed at his serious negotiating stance. “We’ll make a politician of you yet.”

* * *

“That serves you right!” Kara called out from the kitchen, as Alex fell off the sofa laughing. “But seriously, she just appears out of nowhere like… like she has superpowers or something!”

“I can’t believe you tried to storm out of the _Oval Office_ ,” Alex hooted from the floor. “Oh, this is gonna take more wine,” she added, pulling herself up. “You bought more wine, right?”

“After a day like that I should have bought a crate.” Kara fussed with the corkscrew, letting another red breathe while she topped up both their glasses from the existing bottle. “But Alex, you should have seen her.”

“I’ve never bought into the hype,” Alex pointed out. “They’re all just people, and it usually just takes some tawdry little scandal to remind us of that. She does have great taste in sunglasses though. I’m almost tempted to turn in my aviators.”

“I always thought they practiced, you know to talk like that? But when she speaks it’s like the best lecture you ever went to, but somehow like the coziest little chat.”

“Once you get over the urge to pee on the floor, anyway,” Alex teased. “Come on, there’s still about a million books to unpack, you nerd. I’ll let you talk about your Presidential crush the whole time.”

“It is _not_!” Kara squeals, tossing a cushion at her sister. 

***

“What delights have we all brought to Show and Tell this morning?” Cat asked as the staff took their places on the elegant sofas in front of her desk. She took her time fetching her coffee and walking around to join them, the Queen Anne chair her least favorite piece in the room, but a generous loan from a prominent donor. Some fights with the DNC weren’t worth picking, and so Cat sat primly on the uncomfortable chair to hold court over Senior Staff.

“We won’t take up your time, Madam President,” James said, monitoring something on his tablet. “We’ve had some chatter overnight about defense spending, but it looks like more Maxwell Lord running his mouth.”

“Senator Lord,” Cat corrected. “We may not be his biggest fans, but the man earned his title, Mr Olsen.”

James nodded, suitably apologetic. 

“I’ve drafted a statement to clarify the changes from Sunday’s speech,” Lucy offered next, and Cat shot a look at Hank. He motioned for Lucy to drop it, and she set her iPad down with a frustrated little huff.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Hank chided them. “There’s a reason we only have Senior Staff with the President once a week. Let’s not waste her time with things we can be resolving ourselves.”

“Everything else is the State Dinner,” Winn sighed. “We’ve been polling on designers, and dress styles. I’ll get the latest to your personal staff as soon as we have it.”

“Speaking of,” James joined in. “Your cousin Fitz called Siobhan just before we started. He’s not going to be able to fly after all, doctors won’t allow it.”

“So I’m entertaining the French all by myself?” Cat groaned. “That’s another three hours with pointed remarks about how Swiss my accent is.”

“It’ll be fine,” Lucy assured her. “We’ve never had bad press from parading you as the dignified but lonely widow.”

Cat took a steadying breath. The rest of the room was stunned into silence. They could almost hear the panicked screeching of brakes applied too late in Lucy’s head.

“Madam President, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s forgotten,” Cat assured with a wave of her hand, though the familiar pang in her chest was anything but. “Shall we avoid party planning for a while? I have the Girl Scouts in a minute, and I don’t have my remarks yet. I assume asking them for cookies will only get me so far.”

“I’ll send over your remarks,” Lucy promised, the first to scramble for the door as they all stood. 

* * *

“You know,” Cat mused as she tapped her bare foot against the floor. “I feel that if I’ve got my own bowling alley, it should be rigged to give the President an automatic strike.” Her ball rolled out and she picked it up, ready to bowl. 

“Maybe if you wore the shoes?” Hank suggested, setting his paperwork aside at her warning glare. As a concession to the evening hour, he’d loosened his tie and shed his blazer but not the tailored vest beneath it. His glass of Scotch was fuller than Cat’s own. “All due respect, Madam President. All the rigging in the world won’t stop me defeating you yet again.”

“You know, when it’s just us, you can call me Cat.”

“I’m well aware, Madam President.”

“Oh shut up,” Cat took her turn and barely managed the spare. “Your lane, Hank.”

She waited for him to start his walk-up. “So about what Lucy said earlier…”

“I was wondering when that would come up.” Hank didn’t turn around, but instead bowled his strike and then came to sit down beside her. “You know she wasn’t talking about you, the person. More you the figurehead.”

“I mean, it’s not as though I enjoy being escorted around galas and dinners by Fitz, who’s usually trying to pick up the catering staff the minute I let him wander off. But it stops the look. You know the one. The head tilt and the silent _I’m so sorry_.”

“People mean well.” Hank takes a sip from his glass, and it glints in the low light of the room. “It’s helpful that there’s never been a First Gentleman before, people don’t know what to expect. I don’t suppose Carter…”

“He hates it, Hank. He’d do it if I asked; my bright, beautiful boy. But I can’t do that to him. It’s bad enough I’ve disrupted his entire childhood. He already lost his father.” Cat sets her drink down and rests her head in her hands. “Sometimes I don’t know if I’d be here, if Robert hadn’t died.”

“You would have been,” Hank assures her. “And he’d have been right on the ticket with you, probably. Fighting for top billing. Carter might want to follow in his footsteps you know. You could ask.”

“And get twelve op-eds and a late night monologue on whether it’s past his bedtime? I’ll pass. My son isn’t going to be a politician, so take your Chief of Staff hat off for a moment. We might need to revisit my dating pool after all.”

“You’re ready for that?” He didn’t bother trying to hide the surprise.

“Emotionally?” Cat sat up straight, fixing him with a stellar eyeroll. “God no. But I could do with a more formal companion. Time to raid the little black book.”

“Just try not to scare them the way you did with Kara Danvers today, is my advice.”

“Oh, I wasn’t that terrifying,” Cat scoffs. “Although… she did hold her own. Sent her off on some noble quest to get the votes herself too. Should keep Myriad off our backs through the State of the Union. I know, I’m brilliant.”

“You’re making deals with lobbyists in the Oval now?”

“I have to keep you on your toes somehow,” Cat points out. “She’s quite something. Scared out of her mind and still she came at me on every point. Her dress sense needs a little work, but she’s a breath of fresh air in all the navy and gray.”

“Now if we could just find you a date like that,” Hank teases, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Think of the good press if you gushed like that to a few women’s magazines.”

“You know,” Cat seized the idea that had been trying so desperately not to crystallize. “A female companion would be less pressure. Most people would write her off as a Presidential gal pal. And I might get some interesting conversation for a change, instead of another guy bragging about his portfolio or his golf handicap.”

“I think people might remember that you’re the first openly bisexual President if you suddenly start bringing women as a date to official functions,” Hank counters. “The narrative with Robert, the fact that you have Carter, that’s distracted a lot of people from your romantic history, Madam President. That said, if you find that you need some companionship, there are ways…”

“You think I need to pay for it?”

“No, but a certain amount of discretion,” he corrects. “I wish I could tell you to go with whatever whim is on your mind, Madam President. But you pay me to make sure you don’t do that. In policy and in everything else.”

“What would you tell me if we weren’t standing in the White House right now? If we were back in National City and I had never run for Governor? What would you do if I were a man?”

“I would do this.” Hank pulls out his phone. “Siobhan, the President is going to need you to track down a number for her, and place a call.”

* * *

“Lena, it’s not funny,” Kara protested over the phone, while Alex cackled yet again to contradict that very point. “I was trying to make a good impression in my new job!”

“Well, you definitely made an impression,” Lena told her. “But I’m glad you’re settling in. Metropolis misses you.”

“At this rate I’m going to be back in a week, so we can go for kombucha or something,” Kara groaned. “Anyway, I have to go figure out this damn wifi so I can get some work done before facing Astra again in the morning. I’m so behind on everything, it’s making her nuts.”

“Good luck! Let me know if you insult the Secretary of State or something,” Lena signed off, leaving Kara to poke her sister in the ribs in a bid to shut her up. Before she could toss Alex out for the evening and finally get her internet working, Kara’s phone rang again. She answered without bothering to check the display.

“I swear Lena, if this is another joke about checking out the President’s legs-”

“Kara Danvers?”

“...yes?” 

Alex stopped laughing, intrigued by the new development. They were going to need to get a better hobby than Alex coming over every other night to laugh at Kara being a disaster.

“This is Cat Grant. President Cat Grant, if we must. I was just calling to… how long would you say you spent checking out my legs?”

Kara’s heart was hammering in her chest. It sounds just like… but it can’t… 

“Ha ha?” She tried, weakly. “Well, you’ve finally gotten better at accents, Lena. You almost sound like the President.”

“Who’s Lena?”

“Listen, I really do have work to do, and I’m sure you do too. Goodnight!”

She hung up, the nagging voice in her head saying _what if what if what if_ on a loop. It couldn’t have been. Lena was going to text an apology any minute. Instead the phone rang again. Kara looked at the display this time. It was a number she’d known for years, memorized just in case. 

The White House switchboard.

“Hello?”

“Kara Danvers?”

“Yes?”

“Please hold for President Grant.”

Kara toppled back against the cushions and fought the urge to curse. She couldn’t have. Not twice in one week. Alex moved closer, sensing more juicy material to mock her with. It was all Kara can do to wave her away. 

“Let’s try this again,” the president said. “Is this Kara Danvers, of Myriad International?”

“That’s me,” Kara offered weakly. “First of all, Madam President-” She paused to throw a cushion at her sister’s head for laughing again. “I’d like to apologize. I thought a friend was playing a trick and I made an inappropriate comment that I would never have made if I’d known…”

“Consider it forgotten.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Mmmhmm.” It was practically a purr. Kara was distracted from her mortification just a moment by the intimacy of the sound, even over the phone. “And before you trip yourself into complete incoherence, I’m not calling about our meeting the other day either. I have an invitation to extend.”

“In… vitation?” Kara wanted to smack her forehead at how she sounded, like she just landed on the planet last week and wasn’t sure what these strange language noises were. “I think we have an events planner at Myriad who usually-”

“Kara,” President Grant interrupted, saving them both. “This is not a work engagement. It’s a social function. Are you doing anything Thursday night?”

Her planner was within reach, but Kara wasn’t sure she could see straight to read. If she wasn’t free, she would _make_ herself free. “Not at the moment. I’m new in town, so I’m just waiting for the invites to come rolling in.” She cringed.

“Excellent, then start with mine. To make the security thing a bit quicker, I’ll send a car. Seven okay?”

“Do you have my address?”

“I got your number, didn’t I? The FBI works for me, Miss Danvers. That’s a joke, for any global intelligence services or journalists who might be listening. I’ll see you Thursday.”

“Wait! Mrs... President Grant?”

“Yes?” 

“What kind of social function? That is, what should I wear?”

“It’s a dinner,” the president told her. “Don’t worry, the official invitation will be there in the morning with everything you need to know. My social secretary is the best in the business, I promise.”

“Okay,” Kara breathed. “That sounds… well I’m honored, Madam President. Can I ask? What made you think of me?”

There was a loaded silence. Kara realized that the leader of the free world probably didn’t get asked to explain her choices very often, and was ready to beat herself up about it when the faintly amused reply came. 

“Well, I suppose because you stayed behind to argue with me. In the Oval Office, no less. I’d say that at least buys you dinner, get you some energy for all those votes you’ve got to whip.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kara answered and Alex might actually have broken a rib or two from how hard her silent laughter had her shaking. “Thank you, and goodnight.”

She ended the call and slumped until she was flat on the floor. What in the hell just happened?

* * *

“How’s that homework coming along?” Cat demanded of her son as he slipped past the agents at the door, part of their ongoing game to pretend he was invisible when in the Residence.

“How’s world peace coming along?” Carter mimicked, with a sly smile. 

“Touché,” Cat conceded, heart skipping at the sound of her son joking with her once again. He’d been so withdrawn after his father’s death, there had been a time she worried she’d never see that smile again. It warmed her every time she saw it now, determined not to take it for granted. “So? Will I do?”

“You scrub up pretty nice,” he admitted, scrunching his nose. Cat had become used to him being her confidant, style consultant and moral compass in a pinch, but sometimes the teen boy in him pushed back against too many conversations about dresses and protocol and sanctions. She had to remember to let him be a kid more often. “Is that new?”

“It’s always new,” she sighed. “Otherwise we’ll have a week long saga about whether I can budget for clothes, and if I’m slighting American designers by wearing something twice. You know what they’re like.”

“Is Uncle Fitz here?” 

“No darling, he’s still recovering from his surgery,” Cat rooted through her accessories closet for some suitable earrings. She settled on the the diamond drops, knowing they’d catch the light in a pleasant way. Thank god her stylist had moved away from the dramatic necklines of late, and the deep red Oscar de la Renta had a perfectly sane outline. “But I wanted to talk to you about something, depending on how tonight goes.”

“You have a real date?” So intuitive, so absolutely her son. 

“I’m willing to bet you worked that out far quicker than the media will,” she warned. “Because I’ve asked a woman to come to the State Dinner tonight. We’re okay about that, right?”

“Whoever you date won’t be dad,” Carter mumbled, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Is she cool?”

“I think she’s very _not_ cool,” she answered with a fond smile creeping in. “That’s sort of what made me ask.”

“Well as long as you gave her the crash course in how nuts this place is.” Carter was on the move again, unable to settle. “And it saves me having to wear a suit and stay up late, right?”

“You think I should have… oh.” Cat’s good mood began to waver. She hadn’t thought to prepare Kara, just to ask her in the first place. “Well. I’ll be right by her side all night. I’m sure she’s had dates before.”

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Does _she_ know it’s a date? At the White House? With the President of the United States?”

The silence stretched between them, increasingly uncomfortable.

“Well,” Cat relented. “She’s a bright girl, I’m sure she’s worked it out.” She pretended to ignore Carter’s disapproving groan as she swept out of her bedroom and into the halls of the Residence. 

She really was out of practice. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it time for a State Dinner? I do believe it is.

She’s Cinderella approaching her very own ball, only somehow she’s still Kara Danvers and she’s the guest of a President, not a Prince. Thank God the Social Secretary, Mrs Landingham, had called to make sure Kara received the hand-delivered invitation. The White House messenger had interrupted one of Astra’s briefings, and the office is still abuzz with gossip about who at 1600 could possibly have sent something to Myriad’s newest member of staff. Kara likes everyone there on first impressions, but she’s never been fond of gossip.

So instead of a perfectly serviceable cocktail dress for a small but formal dinner, Kara is draped in something eye-wateringly expensive, and the darkest of navy blues, from Stella McCartney. Mrs Landingham had kindly emailed over her list of ‘fashion contacts’ and the first boutique Kara visited had won her over with their emphasis on eco-friendly fashions. 

“You’re Danvers?” Asks the brisk brunette who Kara thinks might be the President’s personal secretary. “Come on, we need to clear your car before the ambassador’s car pulls in. No fender benders this time.”

“That happens?”

“More so in the Ellipse than here, but I’m not going to be giving them any excuse. No gun in your purse I assume? You do still have to clear security like everyone else, but it’s best not to have surprises.” 

Kara tries desperately to work out which part of the West Wing they’re storming through in a clacking concerto of heels, but the creamy walls and gloomy paintings are going by much too fast. 

“A gun?” She half-whispers. “Why in the world… I don’t even own one! And if I did--which I don’t!--I certainly wouldn’t bring it to the White House!”

“Well, that puts you ahead of our invited guests at the State Dinner for Indonesia then. Okay, down here and the Secret Service will do the rest. Tell them Siobhan sent you and they’ll be a bit more gentle about it.”

“Wait, this isn’t a strip search, right?” Kara feels the blood drain away from her face.

“What?” Siobhan snaps. “Oh, no. Not unless you set anything off, anyway. Good luck!” Her grin is verging on evil as she departs, and Kara decides she doesn’t like that girl much at all. She walks down the short corridor and finds herself joining a line of guests waiting to go through the metal detectors. Just like at the airport, Kara has a vague sense of unease, as though she might have forgotten putting a machete in her clutch, or a titanium rod in place of her shinbone. Completely irrational, and yet she can feel a prickle of sweat at her hairline. 

But she steps through without a single beep, and then she’s being greeted by none other than James Olsen, White House Press Secretary.

“Miss Danvers?” He’s every bit as charming as he looks on television, offering her an arm. “I hope you don’t mind walking in with me, but the President has to enter with the President and First Lady of France. Protocol, I’m sure you know how it is.”

“Of course I don’t mind!” Kara assures him, and she notices the glances coming their way. “And I don’t know how it is, but gosh, it’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Exciting?” James responds with a broad smile. A flurry of camera flashes go off as they enter the East Room. “I suppose it is. Easy to forget that, when you work here everyday.”

“That must be something,” Kara says. “I’m not keeping you from your date, am I? I don’t want to be a burden, and I promise not to steal the silverware.”

“Nah, I’m… my date works here too. So we usually take it in turns to do the official thing. The other one gets the night off to hit the gym or whatever.”

“That doesn’t sound like a night off to me. I’m more a Netflix and takeout kinda gal. Not that I get many nights off. I sure you don’t, either. But we wouldn’t have it any other way, right?”

“If you say so,” James replies with another indulgent smile. So, we start in the Yellow Oval Room for the cocktail reception. But I thought you might like to hang back here and watch the official arrival?”

“Oh, yes please,” Kara breathes. They’re just in time, too. The Marine Corps Band strikes up with ‘Hail To The Chief’ and suddenly President Grant is there atop the stairs, a vision in deep red silk. The ballgown is far sleeker than anything dreamed up by Disney, and her shoulders are bared beneath blonde curls that are half-swept up and half-down. Next to her, the President and First Lady are a striking pair, and it’s quite the advert for wealthy white people who attended the world’s finest schools. 

La Marseillaise strikes up as the receiving line forms, and by the time Kara is passing the dignitaries, the band has moved on to the Star-Spangled Banner. It’s hard not to feel quite patriotic when approaching the stunning figure that Cat Grant cuts, anthem played with gusto around them.

“Glad you could make it,” President Grant greets her warmly. 

“I’m honored, Madam President.”

“I see James is looking after you. Remind him you’re sitting at my table, not the First Lady’s.”

“But there isn’t a-”

“Protocol hasn’t been updated,” comes the reply. “And you’ll have to tell me all about this dress of yours. You look beautiful, Kara.”

“Thank you.” The moment is over too soon, the line behind her impatient and pushing on. Kara looks for James, tall enough to spot easily in the milling crowd, and lets him lead her into dinner.

* * *

The wine is flowing from the moment Kara sits down, but half of her table is empty waiting for the presidential party to make their way in. She moderates her sips of red wine and stares unabashedly at the elegant décor. It’s said the previous administration could border on tacky at times, but even without a full-time First Person to handle ceremonial duties, Cat Grant’s White House is breathtaking. Rumor has it her mother steps in, but she’s never been officially credited with hostess duties of any kind. 

With a flurry of movement, the French President Cissé and his wife take their seats directly opposite Kara. A moment later, in a cloud of subtle perfume that smells like white flowers and sunny days, President Grant is right there at Kara’s side. It’s the moment she’s truly been waiting for, and all she can think to do is pinch her thigh through the elegant fabric of her dress, confirming that she is absolutely not dreaming. 

“Thank you for going through all this.” The briefest touch of her hand on Kara’s, enough to send electricity coursing up her arm. “It’s not exactly dinner and movie.”

Kara chokes on her mouthful of wine. 

“Though I do have my own cinema, if we find the time later. This is your first State Dinner, yes?”

“Oh, yes.” Kara nods like a bobblehead brought to life before catching herself. “It’s like something from a movie, isn’t it?”

“This is why I like fresh blood. You make it all seem magical again. How do you think I’m doing with the French? They haven’t been big on small talk so far.”

“No?” Kara is surprised. “But they’re both more or less fluent in English, aren’t they?”

“And I speak French. The connection isn’t sparking, though.”

And for no other reason than it’s what she’s always done, Kara steps unto the breach. 

“Monsieur le Président, c’est un honneur de partager cette soirée avec vous. Dîtes-moi, étiez-vous excité comme les autres fans que le PSG a signé Neymar?”

“What the hell?” President Grant is muttering, but Kara is already getting her answer in rapidfire French. She smiles broadly as Mme. Cissé joins in to complain about campaign events being scheduled around soccer matches, both for her husband’s preferred team and their youngest son’s school matches. That turns the conversation to education policy, more specifically the French motion at the UN to provide educational support in other countries. By the time the appetizers are set down, the table is engaged in a lively bilingual debate.

Kara laughs at a joke from the Cissés, before gasping at the wonder of the dish set in front of her. It’s an architectural sort of first course, one that Kara isn’t sure she should touch for fear of some serious food Jenga. She recognizes the caviar, and the tiny eggs must be quail. Two different styles of potato mean it is definitely her dish, and she glances at the place settings to confirm that one of them is velouté. Well, it sure beats the pants off getting nachos with Alex. 

“You know,” President Grant is leaning in again and Kara needs to stop jumping like there’s been an electric shock. “There are in fact twelve different types of potato in this starter.”

“Seriously?”

“Would I lie about the genesis of my potatoes?”

“Is it electoral?” Kara tries to work it out.

“You mean, is my White House kitchen pandering? You bet your ass. Thank you, by the way. Or should that be _merci_?”

“Sometimes titles get in the way,” Kara replies with a shrug. “You would have gotten there just fine, Madam President.”

“God, I wish I could go one night without that title. Anyway, you keep charming the French and there’s an ambassadorship in it for you.”

Kara chokes on her caviar. From Illinois, apparently. “Se-seriously?”

“No.” The president’s look is withering, but a smile dances across those full lips for a moment. “That would be a terrible quid pro quo scandal, wouldn’t it? Now, just wait until you see the salad course.”

* * *

Cat hesitates a moment before returning to the fray. Her goodnight to Carter had been too brief, too early in the evening, and she knows he’ll be up until god knows when reading comics. The staff are in on it too, so he doesn’t have to mess up his eyesight reading under the covers with a flashlight, at least. 

She looks around at the room, buzzing with conversation and the gentle swells of music from the far side. Sometimes it’s a trick to remember this is really her life. It’s only when Kara’s tinkling laugh carries across the room that Cat is prodded back into motion.

“It’s just a shame,” the French president adds, in English this time. He says it just in time for Cat to catch on her return. “Such a beautiful room here, with the dance floor and all. Your musicians are so talented, and yet no one is dancing.”

“Forgive me,” she says, faintly breathless from the rushing around. She needs more hours for cardio, but where to find them? “But I make a point to say goodnight to my son in person, every night that I’m home.”

“We understand,” Mme. Cissé agrees. “But you know, anyone dancing before the King and Queen, back under Louis XIV, would find themselves making a date with la guillotine.”

“How awful,” President Grant answers. “But it sounds like responsibility falls to me, as our closest thing to a Queen. Ms Danvers, would you do me the honor?”

“Me?” Kara almost drops her wine in astonishment. “To, um, dance?”

“You look like you know your way around a ballroom, somehow. If I’m wrong, I can always go and yank Carter out of bed. He’s used to filling in.”

“No! I mean, no need.” Kara gets up from her chair, looking faintly dazed. Cat can’t deny that she enjoys having that effect on people. “You know how to lead, right?” Kara whispers as they take the few steps towards the empty parquet flooring. 

“If I can lead the country, I’m fairly sure leading a beautiful woman around twenty square feet of floor won’t be too challenging. Look at me, do I look like I’d struggle to lead?”

“No, ma’am.” The band sees them take up position and strikes up a more appropriate tune to dance to. Something old-fashioned and wistful. Cat thinks it might be from an old Disney movie, but she’d have to check.

“I never liked the whole ma’am thing. This isn’t the old west, Kara. Is it okay that I call you Kara?” Suddenly, that matters a great deal.

“I think you could call me just about anything.” The blushing as they start to move. The shift in the room’s attention starts as a gradual thing, but then the word spreads and all that focus crashes over them like a tidal wave.

“Could you call me Cat?” She asks, emboldened by the rush of power and attention. “Even if just for this dance? It would be nice to feel normal, just for a few minutes.”

“Okay, _Cat_.” Coming from Kara, it almost sounds reverent. Cat could get used to that. They move around the floor in a stiff waltz at first, but a few bars in Kara starts to hum the tune under her breath, and their steps begin to flow. “I love this song,” she whispers.

“I can’t place it,” Cat admits. 

“Is it always this fast?” Kara asks. “It’s you know, from Maleficent.”

“ _Once Upon a Dream_. I knew it was familiar. And yes, you heathen. The original movie--Sleeping Beauty--has the song at this pace. There was cinema before Angelina Jolie, you know.”

“If you say so. My mom didn’t let me watch a lot of cartoons as a kid. Wasn’t Angelina-”

“Here last month? Yes, we talked about her UN Initiative. We had a screening of Maleficent last year, too. Carter loved it.”

“What kid wouldn’t?” 

There’s polite applause as Cat dips Kara slightly on a turn. “You’re keeping up,” Cat says, pleased. 

“I don’t know how you live this way,” Kara tells her. “Knowing every eye in the room is on you, and they all want to know why you’re dancing with some strange woman.”

“Oh, usually they would be,” Cat agrees, even preening a little at the thought. “But they are, in fact, all looking at you. If anyone were brave enough to ask me, I’d tell them I’m dancing with Kara Danvers, the prettiest girl in the room. As for why? Well. I suppose because you said yes.”

“I did,” Kara confirms. “The song’s almost done.”

Sure enough, the final notes were drawn out, before a brassier number struck up. At that, other couples filled the floor around them, including the French President and his wife. 

“My son said something to me earlier,” Cat sees the moment slipping away. “And it occurred to me that he might have a point. Did I make it clear, at all, that this was supposed to be a date?”

The expression on Kara’s face says it all. Finally, Cat realizes why she looks different tonight: she isn’t wearing her glasses, and her hair is all the way down. At a glance she could be mistaken for Scandinavian royalty, with the light tan and the honeyed blonde highlights. While she’s drinking in the details, it allows Kara a moment to compose herself.

“A date,” she finally blurts. “Well, that’s pretty cool.”

“Cool?”

“Well it’s something.”

* * *

“Mmm.” Presid- Cat is looking at her like she’s not entirely sure Kara is sane. It’s something Kara isn’t sure about now, either. Can she really have been asked to the State Dinner as an official date? Alex teases about Kara’s crush on the president, but the attraction to her is only more devastating up close. It’s been a miracle that Kara has been able to make conversation at all, much less dance around a room with the woman without falling on her face.

All of that on a _date._ An honest-to-God date.

“So,” Kara fishes for a follow-up. “How do you think it’s going. You know, compared to other dates?”

“This is my first date since my husband passed,” Cat admits. “Even so, it’s going better than I hoped. I wasn’t sure you’d be much of a dancer. Throw in the French conversation, and I’m batting a thousand over here.”

“It’s not like I’m on a consolation prize,” Kara points out. “I mean, as impressive titles go, you’ve got kind of a lock on that.”

“True. Alas, in one way this is quite different from a regular date,” Cat explains, as they sit back at their table and watch the other couples dance. “My Chief of Staff has been covertly signalling for about twenty seconds now that I’m needed elsewhere. That means no kiss goodnight, assuming I would get there by the end of the night. And instead of walking you out, I’ll be leaving you to my staff and the car service. Despite all that, can I call you?”

“Tonight?”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“I’ll be up,” Kara says. “And I know you have my number, at least.”

“Then thank you for a lovely date,” Cat tells her reaching across to squeeze Kara’s hand where it rests on her lap. She stands to leave, her dress settling perfectly on her slender figure again.

“Cat?” Kara has to say it. “You would have gotten there by the end of the night.”

The smile is almost blinding in its sudden intensity, making Kara return it without thinking. Then in a rustle of fabric, the president is spirited away, leaving Kara all alone at their table. She doesn’t have time to get lonely, Lucy Lane is slipping into an empty seat a moment later, James Olsen doing the same on Kara’s other side. As a couple they’re the worst-kept secret in Washington, and this double act isn’t doing much to deter that impression.

“Having a nice night? Kara, right?” Lucy asks. 

“Sure,” Kara replies, smooth as she knows how to be. “What about you guys? This doesn’t have anything to do with the dancing, does it?”

“No, no,” James assures her. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. Maybe some swipes from the conservative press about how there’s no First Gentleman, but they’re mostly not crossing that line.”

“So it won’t be a problem if we date discreetly?” Kara doesn’t think twice about the fact that Lucy is taking a sip of her wine as the question is asked. The spit-take is impressive in both range and explosive effect. 

Kara wipes the front of her dress with the heavy linen napkin from her meal.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the date, comes the post-game coverage...

“How was the date?” Carter asks, bursting through the doors in that way that makes the Secret Service jump. Cat is mostly dressed and ready for the day, save for some light hair and makeup tweaks from her in-house stylist. She puts down her slice of wheat toast, gathering Carter up in the offered hug before trading him for a fresh mug of coffee while he takes the seat opposite. 

“It went fine,” Cat answers. “I do know how to date, you know.”

“Did she flip out when you finally told her?”

“She was perfectly calm, thank you. I’m not so terrifying as a romantic prospect. Did you finish your homework?”

“I finished most of it. I can do the rest in the car.” He picks a slice of apple from her fruit bowl. “Or maybe I’ll just read my book. It’s not like the teacher is going to call on me to explain the order of succession. It would be kinda rude, don’t you think?”

“Just a bit,” she concedes, smiling at Carter’s mischievous expression. “You staying away from the papers today?”

“I think so.” Too much coverage makes Carter anxious, and even the initial glance on her tablet this morning confirms the press didn’t overlook her little dance last night. “It’s just a little weird, I saw a photo or two…”

“Sweetheart, if this is too weird, it never has to happen again. At least not until Idris changes his mind.”

“No, I just miss dad. It just really looked like the shots from when you were Governor, that’s all. Made me realize what was missing. But she’s really pretty.”

“And smart, too,” Cat tells him. “She also saved the whole evening by getting President Cissé engaged over soccer, of all things. At least, I think it was soccer.”

“Are you seeing her again?”

“I’d like to. Sure that’s okay?”

“Mom, you can nuke entire countries on a whim. You _really_ don’t need my permission. But you have it, if you want. Just make sure she’s good enough for you, okay?”

“I think the question,” Cat takes a longing sip of her coffee. “Is if I’ll be good enough for her. Especially with this whole circus.”

“Don’t talk crazy, Mom.” He wriggles off his seat, and can he really be taller than just last night? “When your caffeine kicks in, you’ll remember how healthy your ego is. I gotta go… learn stuff, I guess.”

“Make me proud,” she says, kissing his cheek and ruffling his curls. Grumbling, Carter jogs off to start his day.

* * *

The damn song is stuck in her head, and it’s all Cat can do not to enter the outer Oval in a waltz step. Senior Staff are already scrambling to pretend they’re not late, but on the way in, a thought occurs to Cat. 

“Siobhan, get me the number for a florist, would you? One of the classier ones we use. Heads of state classy, do I make myself clear?”

“Just give me the name and a rough idea of which flowers, I’ll handle it Madam President. Like I always do.”

“Just the number, Siobhan.”

She hesitates before checking something on her phone and scribbling the number on a Post-It. Lucy is going to break something with how hard she’s straining to overhear, but Cat is used to conducting her conversations discreetly. They move to follow her into the office, but she waves them off.

“I have a call, first.” They’ll all be crowded around Siobhan and listening in, no doubt. Perhaps Cat should have invoked national security. It’s easy to forget how little privacy she has, despite all the controls and restrictions to keep the rest of the world at arm’s length. There’s always a log, always an agent, someone keeping notes for posterity. Well, this morning she’s going to pretend otherwise. 

She reaches for her purse instinctively while dialing the number, only to realize that she isn’t carrying one. Hasn’t, in fact, since the campaign trail. That’s going to make things a little trickier. Before the florist can answer, Cat rings off. She needs something more imaginative. Flowers feel too generic for something so new. It shouldn’t have that air of a mistress to be stashed in an apartment somewhere, bought off with trinkets and faux romantic gestures.

Instead she jabs ‘0’ for the White House operator and asks to be connected to the kitchens, specifically her pastry chef. Anything external is going to require credit cards, and hers have been locked away since the election, all her assets in a blind trust. 

“Jacques? It’s President Grant.”

“Non, the president does not call me. Lucy Lane, if you are trying to get more cannolis from me for lunch, you can just ask.”

“It’s really me, Jacques. I need a personal favor, and I need you to bill me outside of the White House kitchen budgets, okay?”

“Pardon, Madam President,” Jacques doesn’t sound even slightly flustered. “How can I help you?”

“I need you to conjure up a dozen… huh. Can you hold for just a moment?”

“Of course.”

“Siobhan?” 

She comes scurrying in, and it takes just a fraction longer than it should have, notepad in hand. “Yes, Madam President?”

“You’re of a similar age, do you happen to have any friends in common with Kara Danvers?”

“Ma’am?” Siobhan seems uncomfortable, but Cat stares her down. “We might be friends-of-friends on Facebook, yes.”

“Excellent. Try anyone likely to know, or stalk her profile if anything’s visible. I want to know if she’s into sweets or desserts. How quickly can you get me-”

Siobhan has already been on her phone and holds it up in triumph. “Donuts. Seven of the pictures she’s tagged in feature donuts.”

“Impressive.” Cat doesn’t mention that the speed implies Siobhan already had the page open. There’s only been a glance at the headlines so far, but Cat knows the coverage all features a certain blonde. 

“Thank you. Was that all?”

Cat looks for the hold button on the phone to get back to Jacques. “Siobhan, why haven’t I made you head of the CIA or something yet?”

“I imagine you’d be scared of a coup, Madam President.”

Well. The girl has a point. Cat waves her out and reconnects with Jacques. “I know you’ve cooked for kings and presidents, at some of the finest kitchens in the world. But tell me, Jacques… how are your donuts?”

* * *

Alex is relentless, all the way to work.

“And then she didn’t even call you? You said you’d be up late, and she didn’t call?”

“There’s the small matter of the free world to run. And I wasn’t really expecting it. You don’t think it’s cool enough that I was on a freaking date?”

“Cool is one word for it.” Alex flips off a limo driver who cuts her up at the intersection, revving her engine when he notices the government plates. “Deeply freaking weird and scary are some others. I know you’re not naive Kara, but my god, what you’d be opening yourself up to. Not to mention what it would do to the first female Presidency.”

“Can you stop being a super feminist for a minute and just be my sister? You have to know how gorgeous she is. Not your type, sure, but Alex…”

“Okay, lovestruck Kara. There’s no arguing with you in this state. Just remember you have a job to do, hmm? And a planet to save. Now, I got you here in plenty of time to beat Astra to your desk, so hop to it.”

“You’re a good sister,” Kara says, pressing a quick kiss to Alex’s shoulder, the worn leather of her jacket comforting and familiar.

“Not bad considering I got started so late,” Alex admits, shoving Kara the rest of the way out the door. “Coffees are on you tomorrow.”

“You know,” Kara is stalling, and she knows it’s obvious. “Maybe I could cancel my Prius and we could just carpool?”

“Do you know how rarely I work normal hours like this?” Alex fires back. “This is purely welcome to the neighborhood stuff. Now go face Astra, you wuss.”

“It won’t be that big a deal,” Kara huffs, pointedly ignoring her phone and tablet, both of which she’s been poring over since waking before dawn. “Call you later?”

“If the President isn’t tying up your line, sure.”

* * *

Kara almost makes it, that’s the annoying part. 

She’s barely two feet from her office door, the one she could close and lock, when her aunt’s voice rings out down the corridor, high and clear as any soprano at Carnegie Hall could hope for.

“Morning!” Kara tries for bright and breezy. “I have a call with Senator-”

“Was the Senator at the State Dinner?” Astra interrupts, having made up the distance between them with long strides. “Only I’m having trouble finding any coverage of the attendees apart from the French First Family, the president, and the captivating blonde woman ‘striking a blow for feminism’ by dancing with said president. Anything you’d like to add? Since you were there to witness it and all.”

“Astra, listen-”

“We have a job to do, Kara. A mission, some would call it. Five minutes in town and you’re pulling any _hope_ of media coverage onto your social life and away from Myriad. Getting the media to write about the environment is already like trying to get children to eat their vegetables.”

“I always ate my veggies!” Kara protests. 

“It’s an analogy,” Astra snaps. “In that it helps if that’s the only thing on their plate. God, do I have to go back to basics with you? Despite what people say around here, hiring you wasn’t nepotism. I thought I was getting the girl who saved education? Instead I’m getting a Kardashian with a graduate degree.”

“Hey!” Kara has had about enough of this. She loves her aunt, idolized her for a good part of her life, but this is no way for two professional adults to conduct their business. “Nothing I have done--including, by the way, fostering a positive relationship with the most powerful woman in the world--”

“Most powerful _person_ ,” Astra corrects.

“Whatever. I’m making connections, and it turns out maybe some people noticed. It’ll be a whole new story tomorrow. It’s not like I saved a plane from crashing or stopped a meteor from crashing. What’s the big deal if the president danced with a girl for a change?”

“This isn’t Metropolis, Kara. There, money and power buy you a cloak when the heat is on. In Washington, you can bribe and break the rules, but the story always comes out. Too many people depend on exactly that. You’ll go from a bright young thing to a _joke_ in the snap of my fingers.”

“Ms Danvers?” One of the interns knocks on the door, looking distinctly nervous interrupting. “There’s a delivery for you?”

“Do you need me to sign?” Kara asks, determined to get off on the right foot.

“No, it was a bike courier,” the intern replies, fiddling with a strand of her short, dark hair. “It’s from the White House.”

Astra’s glare is so pointed, Kara’s astonished she isn’t impaled by it as she takes the offered white box, all bound up with elaborate ribbon and the presidential seal in one corner. She turns her back on them, setting the box on her desk before carefully lifting the lid. It’s impossible not to gasp at the dozen donuts inside, their colorful glazes creating a vivid French flag. Unable to help herself, Kara picks up a shiny blue one and stuffs it in her mouth before opening the card that came with.

_Kara,_

_Merci. Let’s try dinner again, in one language, and with a much smaller guest list. You know where I work, call when you have time._

_Cat._

“The courier said that was the fifth draft. At least in the time he was standing waiting for it.”

“Wow,” Kara answers, because she’s still chewing mostly. “How thoughtful of the president.”

“If that’s how she treats a gal pal, I’d love to see what she sends a date,” the intern jokes as she leaves. Kara looks after her, dismayed. She doesn’t hide it well enough, and Astra seizes on it. 

She raises her right hand, and snaps her fingers. Once. Twice. With that, she’s gone, leaving Kara to her baked goods and her handwritten note. 

* * *

“Madam President, you have a walk-in,” Siobhan announces with a weary sigh. “Given the circumstances, I’ve allowed it just this once.”

“Gracious of you,” Cat answers, not looking up from her briefing book on the G20 summit. “Well, is the mysterious guest ever to be revealed? Only I’m off to Indiana for that ridiculous…” She trails off on looking up and seeing Kara standing there on the rug that bears the Presidential seal. 

“Hi?” She ventures, with a quirk of her arm that suggests a wave. “I got your note.”

“How were the donuts?” Cat asks, barely refraining from licking her lips. “I had another six set aside for Carter and me to have for dessert. Assuming I’m back in time.”

“They were the best ones I’ve ever had,” Kara blurts out. “How did you even… I mean your assistant…?”

“I have my own pastry chef,” Cat says. “Perks of the job, so they tell me. Believe me, I’d love to just run down to Magnolia, but the Secret Service get twitchy. That’s also why I couldn’t send something a little more… obvious, like flowers.”

“Speaking of obvious--” Kara’s broad smile fades, and she pushes her glasses up on her nose a little. They’re interrupted by Siobhan. 

“Your new version of the speech is on here,” she hands over a tablet and picks up the briefcase that sits behind the desk. Realizing her cue, Cat shrugs her blazer back on while Siobhan hands over the coat that was draped over her arm. Their own little dance, finished with the soft wool of a scarf to ward off the cold from that all-important speaking voice. “Wheels down in two.”

“I can go,” Kara offers. “Another time is fine.”

“We’ve got two minutes,” Cat insists. “You were saying?” Siobhan walks out onto the Portico, returning them to relative privacy. 

“Madam President, while I am more than flattered, I believe we dodged a bullet last night. The press seem broadly intrigued and amused, but very few of them are treating me as a… as a…”

“Romantic prospect?”

“Right. That. Not the way they would have if I were a man, for sure. So perhaps instead of pushing our luck, we should be grateful for a lovely evening and stick to our respective sides of the debating table. Don’t you think that would be wise?”

Cat takes another step closer. They’re barely a foot apart now. She pretends to think it over, tapping her index finger against her lips. It isn’t lost on Cat just how quickly Kara’s gaze is drawn. 

“Wisdom is a virtue. And yet I find myself still wanting that dinner. Whatever shall we do?”

“Madam President?” Siobhan opens the door.

“That’s my ride.” God, there are some trappings of the job that Cat still feels that giddy little somersault in her stomach over, and Marine One landing on the _lawn_ is high on that list. Kara looks appropriately awestruck and the sound and fury of the military helicopter landing outside. “Come to dinner. Totally private, we’ll worry about the rest later. I’m not above conjuring some more donuts.”

“Donuts might just seal the deal.” The smile is back. Cat almost stumbles as her knees turn to water for a second. 

“Tomorrow night, seven-thirty. I’ll send a car? Not in a controlling way, in a _makes security easier_ way. Sound good?”

“Sure.”

“And Kara?”

“Yeah?” 

“It’s casual,” Cat reassures. “You can leave your ballgowns in the closet.” With that, she’s breezing through the door and marching towards her helicopter, not so much as glancing back. If Kara’s having doubts about dating the president, she may as well get the full effect of it while she decides.

* * *

“I’m doomed,” Kara repeats from where she’s frowning at the supposedly _simple_ recipe on her Pinterest board. How can something with six ingredients require so many steps? “You should have seen her, Alex. So insanely hot, with the strutting out to Marine One like she owns the place. Doomed. So doomed.”

“You know, you can say no, Kara.” Alex is ‘helping’ by eating the raw mushrooms as fast as Kara can chop them. “I get that it’s impressive and all, but you went there to try and protect your job, your public profile. Now you’re having dinner with her again? She doesn’t call all the shots here just because she has the nuclear codes.”

“Between you and Astra, I’m never going to get laid again,” Kara whines. “Speaking of which, how come you’re spending all your time with me? No big plans, sis?”

“You know I hate dating,” Alex says, just a little too forcefully, moving on from the vegetables to open some wine. “Apart from you and a couple of folks from work, Astra’s the only other person I can stand in this city.”

There’s that crackle of something in Alex’s voice again when she mentions Astra. Kara has had her suspicions for a while now. It’s not like Alex and Astra are really related, since Alex was fostered by Kara’s parents in her teens, meeting Astra only at the occasional wedding or Thanksgiving. Then when Alex had gone off to Quantico, followed by her posting to the Hoover Building, it had made sense she’d get in touch with the one person she knew in DC.

Only now Kara has come along to join two of her favorite people, she can’t help feeling like she’s intruding, somehow. She invited Astra over tonight, to christen the new kitchen, but she’d begged off after checking her phone. 

Throwing the ingredients into the skillet with more hope than expectation, Kara washes her hands and dries them methodically with a dishtowel. Tomorrow night she could be dining at the White House, again. No huge ballroom this time. Would it be in the Residence? Will the Secret Service be in the room? Does any of that matter when faced with the prospect of more donuts, twelve of which have already been demolished with minimal sharing? 

That’s before Kara even gets into the prospect of Carter Grant. The kid lives there, he’s bound to be somewhere in evidence during the early evening. How does she even begin to negotiate that?

“Kara!” Alex yells, and clearly not for the first time. Jolted from her thoughts, Kara spies the smoke already rising from the pan.

“Oh shoot!” She pulls the pan onto an unlit burner. “This is impossible.”

“Cooking? Or your love life?”

“Just for that, you’re paying for takeout,” Kara says, but she’s reaching for her purse all the same. “Let’s go pick something up, and then you can help me pick out something casual.”

“Something casual?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a date tomorrow,” Kara decides in that moment. “And I want to look my best.”


	5. Chapter 5

The Secret Service agent who walks Kara into the pleasant ‘waiting area’ doesn’t specify if she should sit, so Kara eyes the probably-antique furniture from a wary distance and contents herself by skimming the leather spines of the books in one corner of the very red room. From the wallpaper to the carpets, everything has a touch of the bold color, offset with gold and cream. She shudders to think what would have happened to a space like this if Cat Grant’s opponent had won the election. It would probably be the first White House branch of Hooters by now.

Kara selects a copy of _Democracy in America_ from the shelf at eye level, running a finger over the spine and its deep blue leather. A first edition, or at least a limited one. She’s had her own arguments with de Tocqueville, mostly in her thesis, but it’s something to be holding the famous tome in this of all places. She’s flipping gently through to refresh her memory when there’s a sudden, ominous thud.

“Hello?” She asks, closing the book as she turns around. Was she not supposed to touch? Is a silent alarm going off somewhere? Do they shoot people for book-related crimes? 

“You’re Kara.” 

He’s taller than he looks in photos, is the first thing she notices. Not in school uniform now, but still preppy in a polo shirt and shorts that ignore the weather outside just a little. Still, Carter Grant is a born and bred Californian, so maybe they have to wear shorts by law or something.

“I am. Would it be cooler if I pretend I don’t know you’re Carter?”

“I think that would make you someone who’s never read a newspaper,” he answers right back. “I don’t think that’s cool. Do you?”

“Not one bit,” Kara agrees. “And it would make me pretty bad at my job, too.”

“Because you’re a lobbyist?”

She nods. “I guess I don’t need to explain what that is, huh?”

The look he gives her is a perfect facsimile of his mother, even though at first glance he’s a smaller clone of his dad. Kara never met Robert Grant, but there are no shortage of tributes to what a great man he’d been. Following in his shadow was just another reason this insane flirtation made no sense, and yet Kara had never been able to back down from a challenge. 

“My mom sent me out here to distract you,” Carter picks up their conversation. “She had to take a call.”

“Do you like living at the White House?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not as much as the Governor’s mansion, but sure. Did you know it has a bowling alley?”

Kara nods. “Found the swimming pool yet?”

“It’s under the press room. _Everyone_ knows that.” Carter folds his arms, and oh boy, Kara is blowing it. She fumbles for a better topic, trying to balance his age with his less than usual upbringing. Instead, Carter saves her.

“You want to know who my mom’s on the phone with?”

“Only if it won’t get you in trouble. Or breach national security,” Kara replies. “I mean, not that you would. You probably know better than me what is or what isn’t.”

“Well, I don’t think Beyoncé is a national security matter, but you can ask?”

“Seriously?”

“No,” President Grant interrupts, walking in and putting her hands squarely on her son’s shoulders. “Carter’s just having a little fun with you, Kara. I was on a call with our UN Ambassador.”

“Oh. Did it go well?”

“Well, we’re still in the United Nations, so I’ll call that a win. Has anyone offered you a drink yet? We’re in the private dining room, if you want to come upstairs?”

“Of course.” Kara doesn’t entirely know what to do with herself. On a normal date she might lean in to kiss a cheek or maybe risk a hug. She certainly can’t do that with Carter present between them, whether her date is president or not. “Is that not it over there?” 

She nods to an open door, with a small formal dining room beyond.

“Funnily enough,” Cat explains. “That’s actually called the Family Dining Room. We actually eat our meals in the private one on our floor though. You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” Kara knows they’re heading up to the most private floor of the entire building. If she remembers from her last glance at the official website, that small dining room is directly opposite the president’s bedroom. She tries not to blush at the thought. “I was going to bring something--some wine--but the agents said it was better not to?”

“It’s a headache for them,” Cat explains, ushering Carter ahead of them and falling into step with Kara as they walk down a long hallway. “There are tests, scans… not to mention the ethics considerations for price limits on gifts… honestly, it’s easier just to drink what’s already in the stash here. Don’t worry, it’s a good selection.”

“I’m sure it is,” Kara agrees, lighting up at the gentle touch to her elbow, steering her into a dining room that looks almost normal. It only seats six, for a start, and the furniture in the small room is otherwise limited to a dresser full of dishes and an oil painting of Eleanor Roosevelt. She takes the seat in front of Eleanor, not wanting to be distracted by it all night. “Oh, don’t you want to stay for food?”

She asks because Carter keeps going after giving his mom a quick hug. He looks at each of them in turn, not expecting the question. 

“Won’t it ruin your date?”

“Well, you live here too,” Kara points out. “And I don’t think anyone can hang out with your mom without getting to know you. That would never work.”

She looks across at the president--no, _Cat_ \--to make sure this is approved. An invitation to her home came with the kid implied, but Kara doesn’t want to overstep her bounds again so soon. Something about this zip code likes her foot in her mouth more often than not. Turns out she doesn’t have to worry: Cat is positively beaming.

“There you go, Carter. Netflix can wait an hour. Let’s not pretend you were going to crack a book.”

They’re barely seated before drinks and an appetizer are being set out.

“I wanted to put the research in,” Cat explains. “Unfortunately, the stockmarket and the Middle East had other ideas this week, so I’ve been putting out fires instead of finding out your favorite foods. I had the kitchen rustle up some of mine. That doesn’t mean you have to like it. Anything else you want, just ask.”

“Yeah, they’re even better than the rats in Ratatouille,” Carter agrees, seizing on the artistic pieces of melon they’ve been served, some kind of ham all mixed up in there. Kara is suddenly starving, and there’s a silver basket of bread a moment later. Bliss. It’s time Cat Grant got a glimpse of the Kara Danvers metabolism. Another test for really dating, or just a presidential whim?

As soon as the main course is finished, Carter makes his excuses and practically runs for the door. Cat calls him back for a kiss and a promise to behave, which he makes with an eye roll. Kara has the impression that kid hasn’t had a chance to misbehave in his short life.

“Thank you,” Cat says once they’re alone again, plates cleared in advance of dessert. She pours a splash more wine for each of them, and Kara will have to check the label to add this particularly oaky white to her own collection. “For including Carter without me having to ask. I know you don’t have children, but gestures like that really count for a lot.”

“He’s a great kid,” Kara says, meaning every word of it. “You must be so proud of him. And all this can’t be easy.”

“No, and I was Governor for eight years before this,” Cat sighs. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have considered his childhood more; held off for four years, maybe another eight.” 

“And let that guy be President? It’s not like the Democrats had anyone more credible.”

“My legacy is saving the country from a buffoon in a bad toupé?” 

“Yup, the same toupé I could have sworn you were going to pull off in the third debate, if he’d gotten any closer.”

“The Republicans have learned their lesson,” Cat counters. “I’ll have a tougher time next election.”

“Nah, the incumbent rarely does,” Kara says. 

“Tell that to the older Bush.”

“Fair. What’s for dessert?”

“I’m beginning to think you’re here for my chefs, and not my fascinating company,” Cat accuses, getting up from where she’s sitting opposite Kara and taking the seat at the head of the table, much closer. In hand-touching range, in fact. Since that’s exactly what she does along with the next thing she says to Kara. Not that it’s audible under the repeated _oh my god is she going to hold my hand_ that’s galloping through Kara’s brain. 

“No, the company’s pretty good.” Kara blushes as she says it. “I still can’t quite believe I’m here. And in _jeans_.”

“You’re lucky the Secret Service didn’t bar you for that.”

“Seriously?”

“No. I suppose since we have to wait a little on dessert, now would be a good time for the nickel tour.”

“Oh, I did the White House tour years ago, when I was in school,” Kara says. 

“Kara, I don’t think your tour included the Residence, did it?”

“That’s a good point.”

“Walk with me.” Cat stands, letting go of Kara’s hand only to take her arm instead when she stands. “It’s so rare I get an evening to show this place off. Even state visits now are so quick, and nobody stays at the White House as a guest anymore.”

“Well Blair House is pretty nice, but this is amazing,” Kara says as they walk down a hallway lined with stunning landscapes. “If I was President, I don’t know how I’d get anything done. Tell me there are secret passages.”

“God knows I’ve looked,” Cat confirms. “Do you think there’ll ever be a time you can stand here in a room with me, and not see me as the president? I know that’s a big ask, but you seem like an exceptional person?”

“Do I?” Kara halts just by the staircase. “How much do you know about me? Did you ask around? Or do you have my FBI file?”

“Well, you were background checked to take your meeting.” Cat looks uncomfortable for the first time, leaning against the wall in an attempt at casual that doesn’t quite land. “And well, further for the State Dinner. Your FBI file is a short read, if it’s any consolation.”

“I _have_ an FBI file?”

“Almost everyone does. Apart from those protests in college, you’ve never come close to breaking the law. Quite the goody two-shoes. Even I’ve been arrested.”

“Wasn’t that for refusing to reveal a source when you worked in news?”

Cat shrugs. Maybe her biography isn’t fascinating to her, but it sure is to Kara. “Most importantly, now we’ve reached the stairs. Your call, Ms Danvers. Up to third? Or down to the basement floor?”

“Well, I think that depends on what lies in store for me there,” Kara answers, and she doesn’t exactly mean it to sound flirtatious, but she’s not disappointed when it comes out that way. Cat--nope, still the president, the freaking President of the United States--seems to like it too, judging by the way she steps closer. There’s hardly any distance between them at all now. No Carter, no staff, not even a visible Secret Service agent, though Kara knows they can’t be far away.

“Downstairs has a library, bowling alley,” Cat starts ticking things off on her fingers.

“I’ve heard,” Kara answers back.

“Upstairs we have the music room, the game room…”

“What about this floor? What if I’m super lazy and hate climbing stairs?” Kara gets an appraising look up and down for that one, in her striped shirt and skinny jeans.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Cat answers. “But how would you like to see the view from the Truman balcony? We can take our drinks and have them bring dessert out there.”

“Sold.” Kara expects to be led in that direction, it’s clear to see the doors that open out onto the balcony, with its beautiful lighting. Instead Cat moves closer yet, until they’re almost pressed against one another. 

“How’s the whole never-mind-the-president skill going?” She murmurs. 

“President who?” It’s worth a shot.

Oh, it’s more than worth a shot when Cat presses her lips against Kara’s. As first kisses go, it’s almost chaste. There’s enough pressure and the touch lingers just enough to suggest there’s a lot more in store. Kara’s heart starts fluttering in a way it never has before, a caged thing rattling for freedom in her chest. As soon as she knows what’s happening, the kiss is over. 

“Was that okay?” Cat asks. “I can’t help but be aware of the power imbalance, of the pressures…”

“Are you trying to stop me from doing my job?” Kara asks. Cat shakes her head. “Are you trying to break any laws?” Cat shakes her head again. “Then, as one consenting adult to another, weren’t you going to show me the view?”

“I’m getting fond of the view right here,” Cat sighs, but then she’s in motion and Kara practically skips after her, standing aside as a steward is instructed with the change of plans. They sit on the immaculate cream couches out on the balcony, the view of the lawns in the dusk and the distant lights of DC masking that they’re in the heart of the nation’s capital. 

Kara turns when someone comes through the door, but there are no dessert plates, no tumblers of Scotch or brandy to round out their meal. Instead there’s a Secret Service agent, in his regulation black suit, complete with earpiece.

“Madam President, you have a secure call from the Sit Room.”

***

Cat hangs her head for just a moment. Clearly, one interrupted evening was too much to ask. She’s barely started making a move, and here comes a geopolitical mood killer. 

“Kara, I’ll be right back. Sit, enjoy the view.”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, striding out to take the call on the secure phone just inside her suite. 

“Madam President, this is General Lane. We have a developing situation in National City. Before we deploy local units, we’re going to have to call the Governor and request deployment of the National Guard.”

“What are we looking at, General?” Sam Lane is a four-star general but so far he and Cat have already disagreed on every aspect of her foreign policy agenda, and exchanged more than their fair share of cross words in the Sit Room. Nonetheless, with boots on the ground there are few people she trusts more to give an accurate sitrep.

“Chemical agents, possibly airborne. We’ve alerted hospitals, but the evacuation and containment will need lots of bodies, Madam President.”

“Consider the order given, General. Get your troops in line and I’ll handle the Governor. You’ll have everything you need.”

Ending the call, Cat grabs a jacket and pulls it back on over her blouse, looking for the heels she kicked off earlier in favor of more comfortable flats for around the Residence. A quick call to Hank later, and the National Guard are being deployed as requested. She’s so locked and loaded for the situation ahead, adrenalin already pumping, that she almost forgets she has a guest. Only when she’s out in the sitting area does she glimpse Kara’s blonde hair through the huge window.

“Kara?” Cat barely steps all the way through the open door. “I’m afraid something’s come up, so I have to call it a night. I’ll have one of the agents take you home. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Cat tries not to think what the environmental lobby will be screaming when they get hold of a story about airborne toxins. Her smile is forced, tight. “Not tonight. Thank you for coming. I’ll call.”

With that, she’s off to the Sit Room, her agents falling into formation around her. She’ll have to duck out in a while to say a proper goodnight to Carter, but the staff are used to that by now. She’s all the way back in the West Wing when she remembers they didn’t even get to dessert. Her lips are still tingling from the kiss though, so that’s pleasant distraction enough.

***

“Lena, I swear to God, you can’t tell anyone. I’m telling you, and in the morning I’ll tell Alex. That’s _it._ So if I see this online anywhere, I’m gonna know who to bust like a piñata, okay?”

“I’m a vault,” Lena promises over FaceTime, a chalky green face mask plastered on her skin, and a bowl of popcorn that’s as well-filled as her large glass of red wine. Inspired, Kara roots around for similar supplies in her own new kitchen. She has no popcorn and Alex already helped her polish off the wine. It would be great not to be hungry, but the absence of promised dessert is weighing on her sweet tooth, even though she totally gets why Cat had to leave early.

There. Cat. Not ‘the president’. Kara is getting the hang of it.

“Okay, when you went to your fancy boarding school, did you have a sort of… you know, girl code? Cross my heart and hope to die?”

“Of course we did, Kara. It was in Europe, not another planet.”

“So… I kissed the President of the United States tonight.”

Dead silence.

“Lena?”

“...wow, Kara. Really? Like, romantically?”

“It was kinda romantic, yeah. I mean, on the lips and all. Then we got interrupted by some situation... and I just got home. But oh my god, this is just a disaster waiting to happen, isn’t it? What am I doing?”

“It does sound a bit crazy,” Lena says. “I mean, I get it. She’s hot, objectively speaking. And the power thing can’t hurt. I guess if a CEO doesn’t work out for you, then President is the next logical step, right?”

“Lena…”

“No, no, I’m not being bitter. It’s funny, see? We’re friends, Kara. Best friends. No matter who you choose to date next. Listen, I have a work thing but tell me all about the rest tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I have work too,” Kara grumbles, flipping on the television and firing up her laptop. She sees the scenes from National City, and it only takes a moment to grasp what’s going on. This must be what Cat went off to handle. “Thanks for listening, though.”

“Any time,” Lena promises, and with that Kara’s diving headfirst into chemical agents and air quality, her phone lighting up as the story hits wider and wider coverage. It’s going to be one hell of a day at work tomorrow.

***

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” James is announcing her as formally as ever. “The President of the United States.”

Cat does enjoy the way an entire room stands when she enters it. With confident strides in her sober gray skirt suit and black heels, she takes the podium in the press room. 

“Snapper?” She calls on the National City Tribune first, the better to get it over with. At the back of the room, Lucy is watching on, typing furiously on her tablet screen as she does. Cat bristles a little at the supervision of it, but she’s learning in the White House that the president doesn’t go it alone; all these fires take a team to keep under control.

“Madam President, the attack last night in National City didn’t kill anyone… yet. However, citizens are scared to leave their homes, not knowing if the very air around them is safe to breathe. Can you confirm what’s going on?”

“You’ll have a full briefing from FEMA right after this, but the toxins released last night are _not_ deadly to humans, and while there are some symptoms being treated still, the threat is considered to be contained.”

“Madam President!” Lois Kent from the Daily Planet calls out. Cat nods, another headache to head off at the pass. “What are the long term effects? Some scientists are claiming the toxins will bond with the atmosphere, mutating and worsening--”

“There’s no evidence at the present time.” Cat shuts her down. That feels pretty good. She’s regaining control of the story with calm and reasonable words. 

“Follow up?” Lois persists. Cat waves her on. “Is it true you were having a personal dinner with a lobbyist during the time of the attack? Here at the White House?”

“Personal dinners are called _personal_ for a reason. I was entertaining someone who’s new in town, that’s all you’re getting on that. Now, back to National City…”

Cat can feel the way Lucy snaps to attention, spine straightening. She’s as predictable as her military father sometimes. That non-answer is going to generate far too much interest, and Cat wants to kick herself for not redirecting, or hiding behind a ‘no comment’ with an eye roll. Sure enough, Lucy is making her way to the front, cutting the press conference short. 

“FEMA Director Kelly will be here in just a moment,” Lucy assures, ushering Cat back into the halls of the West Wing. “Ma’am, we need to have a conversation.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Political machinations on the Hill lead to an impromptu return trip to the White House residence. Will Kara agree with Cat's dating plan?

To her credit, Lucy holds her tongue until they’re safely back in the Oval, where Hank joins them. He looks less unruffled than Cat would like. 

“Madam President,” he greets her with a nod, standing in front of her desk. She sinks gratefully into her chair, running on fumes with the limited sleep last night. It took until 2am to confirm the containment of the gas threat in National City, and she’s strongly considering using the Budget meeting in an hour for a much-needed nap. 

“Hank, we’re looking good on the West Coast this morning, what could possibly have you worried?”

“I imagine, ma’am, that he’s concerned about the same thing as the rest of the staff.”

“All of them, Lucy? All 1400 people who work here? Or are we including the DNC staff and the Hill staffers too? It’s important to be precise about these things.”

“Due respect,” Lucy comes right back like she didn’t even notice the deflection. “We’re starting to get questions on your personal life. If you are dating Kara Danvers, dating a _lobbyist_ , then we need a strategy for that. ‘No comment’ isn’t going to cut it.”

“James has always been effective with flat-out denials. Nobody else from this administration speaks for the President,” Cat counters, though she knows the argument is a weak one. She can’t have this one thing, this tender, fragile hope of something that makes her so happy, taken away before it even starts. She won’t allow it, goddammit, and the woman who commands the 82nd Airborne should be able to do whatever the hell she wants in that regard.

“But--”

“Lucy,” Hank interrupts. “You’ve given your professional opinion, and the president has made her feelings clear. If anything changes, we’ll revisit the topic. Now, we need to turn our attention to settling the population down in National City. A number of people were displaced last night, and resources are thin on the ground. We need to speak to the Governor and ask what they need. And keep the National Guard out in support as long as possible.”

James knocks on the door and comes in then. “Siobhan said I could crash the meeting. We have a developing issue in Memphis, Madam President. I wanted to brief you before I head back to face the lunchtime gaggle.”

“Go ahead.” Cat leans back in her chair, kicking off her three-inch heels. Some days she can get away with flats, but too many of her staffers are near-Amazonian in height. It’s going to be one of those days.

***

“Senator?” Lyra pops her head around the door, and Max waves her in even though he’s still on speakerphone.

“I’m afraid nothing you’ve said has swayed my vote, Ms Danvers,” he says patiently. “Though I must admit, a dance with you like at the White House might go a long way to making me reconsider.”

There’s the predictable stony silence from the other end of the line.

“I have to get off this call now, thank you for reaching out. Say, when you went over for dinner, did the president use the formal china? Or was it more Netflix and takeout?”

“I… uh, we had plates. At the table. Not that--”

“I understand,” Max cut her off. “Good luck with your bill.”

The call ends and he moves back from his position at the window to see what Lyra has brought him of the morning press coverage. Sure enough, a number of outlets are already running with the speculation on the president’s dinner guest. Clearly not a brain cell between them, since he’s already guessed and confirmed her identity.

“Get me the chair of the RNC would you?”

“Can I tell him what it’s regarding?” Lyra likes to know what’s going on, maybe a little too much for comfort. Still, she’s an effective assistant, and effective is what Max cares about most of all. 

“Tell him we just found new ground for election campaigning. And that I’ve decided to run.”

“Run?”

“For President.”

***

Kara puts the phone down while mentally cursing herself. How does Senator Lord known about her dinner at the White House? Cat had outright denied it in her press conference.

There’s little time to dwell. Having been up late and in early to handle the environmental response to the National City attacks, Kara knows she’s barely scratching the surface of her own major project.

She’s starving by the time Alex swings by, bearing a brown bag of something that smells delicious even from way across the room. 

“If there are potstickers in that bag, then I love you.”

“You’re supposed to do that anyway.” Alex hands over the goodies. “A little bird told me you haven’t been out of the office all day, and it’s coming up on six.”

“Thank you.” So Astra is paying close attention then. “We don’t have plans, do we?”

“No, I have the ballet tonight. I better go change, cause otherwise the only way I’m getting into the Kennedy Center is with a warrant.”

“It wouldn’t be so bad on a suit day,” Kara says, gesturing at Alex’s perfectly decent jeans and leather jacket combo. “Who talked you into two hours of dancing anyway? Is it for a case?”

“Astra has a spare ticket. It’s networking for her, so she likes to have a normal person with her for these things.”

“Then why is she asking you?”

“Ha ha. Heard from your girlfriend-in-chief today? I’m glad she denied your existence this morning.”

“She withheld my identity, that is not the same thing.”

“How was the date?”

“Two kisses, zero desserts,” Kara says, since most of her first dates lately have had those numbers reversed. 

“Seriously? You skipped dessert?”

“National City, the gas?”

Alex nods in understanding. “Hey can I borrow your state dinner dress for tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Oh good, cause I already put it in my car.” Alex hugs her. “She better call you know. Nobody kisses my sister and pulls the whole ‘too busy running the country’ card afterwards.”

“I have work to do,” Kara reminds her. “If she calls, she calls.”

“Convincing.” 

“Shut up. Go on your ballet date with Astra and leave me alone.”

“Says the scandal waiting to happen. I might have to start calling you Watergate. Or would you prefer Lewinsky?”

“Out!”

“Iran Contra?”

This time Kara actually chases Alex out, closing the glass door behind her. It rankles just how much she has a point. Does she want to be the scarlet woman who brings down the Grant presidency? No, she does not.

She should tell Cat this, when they next speak. No point in dragging it out and letting them both get hurt. Or maybe the most discreet way of all is a little call screening. Kara sends an email to reception asking that no calls be put through for the rest of the day, and switches off her cell. 

***

Cat can’t remember the last time someone refused to take her call, but she suspects it was the late nineties. Even her political opponents always take her call, if only to tell her again how loudly they disagree with her. 

To be told she can’t be connected at the office to Kara Danvers, she of the suddenly unreachable cellphone, is baffling. Not even dropping the POTUS title has an effect, and that hasn’t happened once in the two years she’s been in office. 

“Kelly, was it? Since you obviously recognize that this is the President, is there any chance I can _order_ you, as your Commander-in-Chief, to connect this call to Ms Danvers as a matter of international significance? And failing that, do you take bribes?”

“The instructions were very clear, Madam President. Please forgive me, but we have a strict policy on availability of our senior staff. For security, I’m sure you understand. I voted for you, ma’am. I’d love to work for you one day. But break the rules for you? That I cannot do.”

“I respect your position, Kelly,” Cat sighs, toying with a briefing book on the latest economic summit on sub-Saharan Africa. “Should the comms blackout at Myriad be lifted, could you put in a good word for Ms Danvers to call me?”

“If she wants messages, then sure.”

The resolve is startling. Maybe Kelly can run the CIA if Siobhan doesn’t want it. 

“Goodbye,” Cat doesn’t dare hang up without saying it for some reason. What is wrong with her lately? 

“Madam President?” Hank comes in, folder in hand as ever. “We’ve got some buzz on the hill about a Republican challenger at last.”

“I thought they were going to string it out a few more months? Why waste campaign money when they can all take potshots on free media?” It annoys her more than it should to think about re-election. Cat swears she was actually starting to get used to all this, and now it’s time to start campaigning again?

“Well it seems this time out, Maxwell Lord is throwing his hat in the ring.”

“Tell me you’re kidding.” Cat pinches the bridge of her nose. It’s going to be another Advil afternoon. She hasn’t had a headache for days, not since walking in on Kara Danvers calling her the President of Disneyland, in fact. Great, now she’s not just a date but a mood elevator as well. 

“He didn’t run last time out because he said he had business to do in the Senate.”

“And those two years of obstruction have been a delight to work with.”

“But you know what his real reason was?”

Cat leans back in her chair, kicking her feet up on the desk. She folds her hands carefully in her lap and considers for a moment.

“He knew the only way he could beat me, in an otherwise fair fight, was to go after my character. Doing that to a still-grieving widow and single mother would have lost him more than it gained.”

“I always wondered if you’d seen that oppo research,” Hank says carefully.

Cat shrugs. “I didn’t need to. I know how he works. He’s been nipping at my heels for most of my career. He can’t beat me on the issues, and my record far outstrips his own. Not to mention his own scandalous past to divert from.”

“Is there anything I need to be aware of, now he’s in contention?”

“About our past?” Cat looks away. Will she ever stop paying for her youthful indiscretions? Women pay for so much longer, it always seems. “We dated for three weeks after college. Hardly an epic tale.”

“We won’t have an issue with your lobbyist?”

“With Kara? Why would we?”

“His is one of the votes she’ll go after. Him being a California senator and all.”

“That’s her job. It’s his job. Nothing to do with us, I assure you.” Cat’s more ruffled than she wants to be by the question. “Was there anything else? Only I need some time on the assault weapons bill before I take those meetings.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Hank says, and he heads back to his adjoining office, leaving Cat alone with her thoughts.

***

As the evening wears on, Kara frets about Senator Lord’s question. He had been so sure she’d been the one at the White House, but what if her answer had been confirmation for him? She knows only too well the weight that the right bit of knowledge carries in this town. As a lobbyist she prefers to outstrip her adversaries in fair but effective ways. That doesn’t mean she misses the dirty tricks that go on round about her. 

Packing up for the day, she stops by reception on her way out to make sure all her messages will be coming to her phone. Kelly is waiting, practically bouncing in her seat when she sees Kara approach. So far she’s been the nicest person at the firm, more welcoming than Astra has been, for sure. 

“Ms Danvers, I’ve got return calls from three Senators and five Congresspeople, but there’s one there I think you’ll want to deal with first.”

“I’ll call Alex later,” she says, assuming the personal has jumped to top of the pile.

“Oh, your sister phoned, but this call is from…” she drops her voice to a dramatic whisper. “ _Pennsylvania Avenue_?”

Kara’s stomach does that odd fluttering at the thought of President Grant. 

“Oh, anything urgent?”

“She didn’t seem impressed that I wouldn’t put her through. But you asked not to be disturbed and we take that very seriously, as you know.”

“You absolutely did the right thing,” Kara reassures her. “I can return the call.”

She turns her cell back on as she leaves, sifting through the other messages as they pop up. Not a single name or number registers as she wonders how long she can wait before trying her luck with the White House switchboard. Should she call? Or let things drift for a while, making the inevitable breaking it off that much easier? Just a little while ago she’d been so sure it was the right course of action.

Then the stupid stomach flip. 

Before Kara consciously decides, she jabs the contact in her phone and the switchboard operator is answering. 

“Hello, this is Kara Danvers. I’m not sure I should come through here but I’m… calling for the president?”

There’s a click and the call starts to connect. Okay. That’s pretty cool. 

“Siobhan Smythe, Oval Office.”

“Siobhan, hi! It’s um, you probably don’t remember from the State Dinner and all, but it’s--”

“Kara Danvers.” The sigh is silent, but Kara swears she can hear it. “You know for a lobbyist…”

“For a lobbyist what?” That gets the professional veneer back in place, fast. “Is the president available? Only I’m returning _her_ call.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The line stays quiet for so long that Kara checks her signal three times to make sure she isn’t cut off. Finally there’s one more click and there’s that damn somersault again. 

“I was beginning to think you’d fled the country.”

“Not while I’m still owed a dessert, no.” Kara speaks the truth on that one. She’s embarrassed herself more than once in pursuit of sweet things. “Sorry I wasn’t available today.”

“I’d say that it was particularly busy for me too,” Cat says. “But that would be like saying my water was especially wet, or the Republican tax plan is lopsided in favor of billionaires.”

“You mean stuff that’s always true?”

“Something like that.”

“Listen,” Kara ducks into a side street where it’s easier to hear, and harder to be overheard. “I’m getting a little bit worried that I’m going to be a problem for you. I know you dismissed the idea, but really--”

“You’re very nervous for someone who stands up to everyone in Washington. I hear you’ve been ruffling feathers on the Hill already. Why don’t you let me worry about the press? I’m sure they’ll be too busy blaming me for something to worry about whether we’re dating.”

“Still…”

“I have a late meeting, is there any chance we can talk in person? One last chance to state my case. And I’ll provide dessert.”

“You want me to come over?”

“Is nine okay?”

Kara hesitates. If she stands firm now then the matter is resolved. It’s what she would do in a negotiation, it’s what makes her good at her job. Her free hand is twitching to settle on her hip, her natural posture for defiance. Instead, she hears herself agreeing.

“Make it ice cream, and I’ll be over at nine. You’ll make sure I’m on the list… or however it works?”

“Portico at nine, they’ll be expecting you.”

***

It doesn’t take long for the meeting on judicial nominees to devolve into ideological bickering. They’ll fill a few on the lower courts, but they’re no closer on a Supreme Court replacement, and the Chief Justice is already impatient to stand down and finally retire, in his nineties. 

Lucy and James have joined forces against Winn and Hank on their competing choices for the 7th District Court of Appeals. By the time they argue it out, Cat is ready to close her eyes, spin around and pick whichever side she points to. She suspects some of her predecessors might have resorted to exactly that.

At five to nine, she stands at the head of the table in the Roosevelt Room and calls the meeting to a halt. “You’ve all made your case well, we’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

“Madam President, if we could--”

“I have somewhere to be,” she says, and they nod in understanding, assuming it’s Carter-related given the time of night. There’s a brief pang of guilt at the sin of omission, but she’ll be damned if she can’t have something--someone--all to herself. “Try and get home before midnight, some of you? You might actually get some sleep that way.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they chorus, but she sees how they instantly revert to phones and tablets, no one is rushing for the door. Dedicated and loyal, just how she likes them. Her agents fall into formation as she marches towards the Residence, feeling a little lighter with each step. The possibility of an evening without policy or posturing is just too delicious at this point. 

She looks in on Carter, saying an early goodnight in the few minutes it takes Kara to be brought up from the Portico. 

“Nervous?” He asks as she paces a little in his bedroom. “Mom?”

“Of course not,” Cat answers. “I’m just a little concerned that the press and all of… this… is going to scare her off before she really gets to know me.”

“And once she gets to know you, she’ll be crazy about you, right?”

She ruffles his hair on her way past. “You’ve been paying attention all this time, then. I should go, since she’s the one person today I don’t have to keep waiting.”

Carter picks up his Nintendo. “I thought you liked doing that. Go on, I don’t mind.”

“Sure?”

He nods, and she kisses him fondly on the cheek. “We’ll make some family time this weekend, I promise. See if the agents can get us in somewhere cool for a couple of hours?”

“Or we can just have a movie here? It’s less trouble for them if we stay on campus.”

“No, you spend enough time cooped up. The Smithsonian it is. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Mom. Go get the girl, or whatever.”

Cat strides out into the hall, seeing Kara now seated on the couches at the far end. ‘Get the girl’ is good advice, and she has a plan to do exactly that.

***

“Hi.” Kara stands with a smile that dazzles, almost diverting Cat from her hastily constructed plan. “You look… hi.”

“Would you mind coming with me?” Cat asks, nodding towards the side of the hall that houses her bedroom, complete with its own adjoining sitting room. “I’m tired of feeling on display, and with the agents in the hallway…”

“Sure.” Kara follows along, gathering up her camel-colored coat and tiny clutch. She’s obviously got the common sense not to bring more than necessary to the White House. Definitely nothing big enough for a change of clothes. Though why she’d wear anything other than that dove gray dress that’s practically painted on is beyond Cat’s comprehension at the moment.

A moment later and they’re alone. Kara hesitates by the couch, the four-poster bed that dominates the bedroom area is right in her sightline. Does she think this is a proposition? Would she be wrong? Cat hasn’t felt this reckless in a long time, with her scheduled and regimented life ruling it out for the most part. 

“You had this redecorated?” Kara asks.

“Why, did you spend much time here before?”

“No, but I saw photos. It’s much warmer, more welcoming.”

Cat goes to the cabinet in the corner and pours them both a drink from the crystal decanter. “Scotch okay?”

“With a bit of ice, if you have it?” She does, because the stewards keep everything perfectly stocked. Cat likes the way the ice rattles against Kara’s glass as she hands it over, but keeps her own drink neat. 

“Now Kara, we have got to stop this two steps forward, one step back approach to dating. Don’t you agree? Of course you do, I’m quite brilliant.”

“Well, you have two Pulitzers,” Kara agrees, smiling at the unexpected bragging. While Cat sits on one of the two facing couches by the fireplace, Kara opts to stand, coat still draped over her arm and her drink in hand. “But Madam President, if I were on your staff, I’d tell you the one thing you shouldn’t do going into an election campaign is open yourself up to personal attacks. You were shielded from them by circumstance, and we both know people say that only the indignity of attacking a widow meant a woman got elected at all.”

“If you worked for me?” Cat scoffs. “You’re good, Kara. You have quite the reputation already, especially for someone so young. Always putting out fires, saving the day, making people make better choices… but what is it that makes you so special? Do you want to work here?”

“Work at the White House?” Kara asks, a tinkling little laugh around the question. “Oh, only since I was able to talk. But all due respect, you couldn’t afford me. Why would I leave the private sector?”

“Because doing good is more important to you than making money. And I don’t set the wages around here, the budget does. Myriad can’t pay that well.”

“I make more than you do, Madam President.”

“Really, it’s Cat. That will help. Because the problem, as I understand it, all goes back to what I said about you not being able to see me as anything other than the president. You like both my pomp and my circumstance, but you’re intimidated by them, too.” She wags one finger at Kara, as though scolding her. 

“Is there somewhere I can wash up?” Kara asks. “Maybe hang my coat?”

“Just through there,” Cat gestures towards the bathroom, the coat rack just outside it. Kara sets her drink down and disappears. Time to unfurl the rest of the plan. “So what you need is time.”

“Time?” Kara calls back, confirming she can still hear what Cat is saying.

“Yes, time. And to give you that, I have a plan.” Cat gets up to pour another drink. “We’ll take it slow. And I mean that, despite my practically jumping you last time. A courtship, if you will. Getting to know one another, dates with no expectation at the end. No pressure, and nothing to draw outside attention.”

“Take it slow,” Kara repeats, and she’s still moving around back there while Cat muses over switching to a peatier Scotch. “Because I’m intimidated?”

“Right,” Cat says. “I mean, it’s to be expected. Sex, relationships, all of this is complicated enough without our job titles in the mix. So you, Kara Danvers, are going to be wooed. Slowly and respectfully.”

She turns around at the sound of Kara approaching.

And almost drops her damn drink. 

Gone is the coat, certainly. The purse and Kara’s glasses, too. The artfully-mussed bun that her hair had been in earlier is let down, a riot of blonde curls falling over her shoulders.

Her _bare_ shoulders. 

Because the gray dress is gone, leaving Kara in nothing but her underwear: a strapless black bra and the scrap of material that comprise the matching panties. Were her legs bare this whole time? They certainly glow in the warm light, all the way down to the patent black heels. That’s officially it, save for the watch on her wrist and the simple silver pendant at her neck. 

“Clearly, when I said slowly and respectfully, you misunderstood...”

Kara strides further across the room, giving the bed experimental prod with long fingers. Cat thinks ever so briefly where else she’d like those fingers, and her knees threaten to mutiny.

“Oh, I understood just fine. _Cat_. I’m just changing up the plan. Now, are you going to join me? Or should I go pick up my clothes and get back to saving the environment?”

“If you think there’s even half a chance I’m letting you walk out of here now I’ve seen this, then…” Cat pauses as she sets her glass down and walks over to meet Kara. “I think we can safely say to hell with slow and steady, don’t you?”

“You’re a little overdressed for the occasion,” Kara starts to fiddle with the first button of Cat’s blouse, before deciding a startlingly passionate kiss is more pressing. Cat can’t find it in herself to disagree, and she pulls Kara’s hands away just long enough to solve the button issue without any clothing damage.

“Then by all means,” Cat says between kisses, her blouse hanging open and her fingers tangled in Kara’s hair. “Undress me, Ms Danvers.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We left a very naked Kara alone with her President/date. Here's what happened next.

For once in her life, Kara obeys an order without question. This isn’t a deal to negotiate or a forum to impress some unknown audience. No, this is about as intimate as it gets. If Cat wants to be undressed, Kara is damn well going to make it happen. She still can’t quite believe she did _that_. Just something about being patronized, about being told she should be scared of this gorgeous, delicate woman just because she has the nuclear codes and commands the armed forces to boot, that had jolted Kara right in her stubborn pride.

One impromptu striptease later and this is her reward. Absolutely worth it. 

Not that she has Cat rattled for long. Shock and awe is one thing, and Kara knows she’s in good shape. Letting Cat get her hands on all that barely-dressed body is a very good idea, it turns out. She touches Kara with the firm assurance of hands that have signed bills into law, an historic peace accord, and greeted world leaders from every part of the globe. 

Only it’s getting harder to think about that, of the pageantry and official titles, not when Cat is hot and vibrant and oh god insanely talented with her mouth. How does she know that Kara’s kryptonite is being kissed at the very base of her throat? But then it turns out that it’s actually having perfect teeth grazed along her collarbone, something she didn’t know until just that second. 

And in all the things she didn’t consider when stripping down in the Executive Branch’s en suite, the fact that this sturdy, sturdy bed has four posters is a very pleasant surprise. Kara grabs for the post automatically when Cat moves away, balance temporarily upset. This is why everyone calls her a klutz, but she manages not to embarrass herself.

“Hmm,” Cat is undoing the skinny belt that’s more decoration than purpose on her A-line skirt. “There’s an idea. Not for first time out, though.”

Kara sees then how suggestive it is, how easy it would be in her current posture to grasp the post with both hands and let Cat tie her wrists. Appealing though that idea is, Kara appreciates it not being on the table just yet. They have quite enough power to balance as it is. 

Besides, she finds that when she gets her hands on Cat’s hips--tugging her unzipped skirt down, her silky blouse off with barely a torn button--Kara is very glad to have her hands free. 

“First time?” Kara murmurs against Cat’s cheek as her brain catches up. “Sounds like you’re planning on enough times to be worth counting.”

“Well, you haven’t disappointed so far,” Cat says as Kara’s fingers skim over black lacy underwear that’s already slick to the touch. “And as you can tell, I want this, Kara. I want _you_.”

“For a politician,” Kara continues, easing her fingers beneath the waistband, through perfectly-trimmed curls ( _oh god, who does bikini waxes for the President? Can she even ask that?_ ) “You’re disarmingly direct.”

“Whereas you’re more the typical lobbyist, going right after what you want?”

“Guess so,” Kara agrees as Cat pulls her down onto the bed, both of them kicking their shoes off as a final shedding of trappings for the outside world. As they move together, gentle touches gaining confidence, newly bared skin covered by impatient kisses, it’s a pleasant surprise how well they can read one another.

There’s a slight fumble or two, distances not judged quite right, both moving into the same space at once and colliding. Kara likes the way that bumping noses or shins rubbing together draws a breathy laugh from Cat. She sounds free like that, as though they could be any two random people, just enjoying their first time together.

Kara is already pretty worked up, and it doesn’t take long for Cat’s fingers to find a rhythm that works devastatingly well. Clutching the high thread count sheets with one hand, stroking Cat’s hip with the other, Kara comes hard that first time. Hard enough to see stars while she whimpers for mercy, since Cat apparently has no intention of letting up. 

“Well?” Cat murmurs as Kara gathers herself, pressing kisses down Cat’s irritatingly flat stomach. 

“I’d definitely vote for you again,” Kara confirms, running her tongue in a tickling line down Cat’s hip bone, causing her to arch up off the mattress. “Now let me thank you properly, hmm?”

***

Cat feels Kara shifting away from their loose embrace the very second she moves. Taking care to regulate her breathing back to a sleepy pace, Cat opens one eye and wonders when the hell she became the little spoon. Sure, Kara has an inch or two in height on her, but there’s something distinctly unpresidential about letting someone else be the bigger spoon.

Nothing much presidential about how they spent most of the night, either. Some time after three Cat had considered begging for mercy, knowing a day full of important meetings and relentless work lay ahead. Sometime before dawn they’d fallen into a sated slumber. Barely two hours later and Kara is on the move. Not wanting the bubble to burst, Cat sits up, letting the sheets slip down to reveal in something like a state of morning glory.

“Sneaking out so soon?” She asks, stifling a yawn.

Kara shoots a guilty look her way, lingering when she sees the display. “It would be sensible to get out before the press arrives for the day,” she says, and it’s a perfectly logical plan. 

“Hmm, yes,” Cat taps her lips as though thinking it over. She’s always been gifted at breaking news. “Only this is the age of the 24-hour news cycle, Kara. My staff rarely goes home, and there are reporters who should be listing the West Wing as their home address. The city never sleeps, this one least of all.”

“You’re saying--”

The ringing of the phone interrupts them. Cat falls back against the pillows and reaches for it.

“If this is my wake up call, you’ve missed your window,” she starts to joke with Siobhan, only to be interrupted. That in itself is a whole new precedent to set. 

“Madam President, Lucy Lane is on her way up to the Residence. Apparently some of the press are speculating that you had an overnight guest. Do you need me to… make arrangements?”

There’s something undeniably chilling in the way Siobhan offers that. If she hadn’t passed extensive background checks, Cat might fear for their collective safety sometimes. 

“No, no,” Cat dismisses. “Just have a car and a driver ready for after breakfast. Ideally not the same one I sent out last night.”

“Oh.” Siobhan doesn’t approve of the choice of guest then. So be it. “Right, in case last night is the reason--”

“Exactly. I’ll be in the Residence until I have to drag myself into that security briefing. Keep the wolves from the door. You know I’m counting on you, number one.” It’s a cheap ploy, but Siobhan prides herself on being the leader of the various secretaries and assistants who keep the President’s life in order. 

“What’s wrong?” Kara is trying to put her shoes on, and overbalancing in the process. Needing to head off the panic, Cat slips out of bed and pulls on her robe. When she makes a lap of the bed to meet Kara, it’s just instinct to place a soothing hand on Kara’s cheek.

“There’s a story, just like there is every second week, that I have an overnight guest.”

Kara blanches, letting her troublesome shoe fall to the floor. 

“It’s rumor and conjecture, though this time they happen to be right. Lucy is already in and handling it, we don’t want it anywhere near James and the press room. Luckily for me, the visitor log for last night indicates that some prominent Democratic donors happened to be staying over in thanks for their support of various candidates. They have a lunch meeting with me today, too.”

“Isn’t that…”

“Misdirection?” Cat fills in the blank, hand on her hip now Kara has peeled away. “Oh, you’re not seriously going to pretend like a lobbyist doesn’t rely on that?”

“No, but we’re supposed to be grasping, amoral and devoid of souls,” Kara reminds her. “What’s your excuse?”

“The desperate desire for five minutes of private life?” Cat feels the argument brewing out of nowhere, storm clouds rolling in. “Or, silly me. Perhaps I thought I was entitled to a moment of happiness for the first time since I was widowed in my early _forties_. No, that’s not it either. Maybe it’s because it’s nobody’s damn business but mine, let’s try that on for size.”

“God, you’re hot when you’re pissed,” Kara blurts out, slapping a hand over her mouth immediately after. “And you’re right, I’m sorry. I just don’t want to be a problem for you. So I should go.”

“Going now is what gets you caught,” Cat points out. “Breakfast is being brought up, and I’ve even done the rarest of things: eked out some additional time between food and my first meeting to take you back to bed. If you’re going to panic and insist this is one night only, I intend to take full advantage of my little… late checkout policy. Fair, no?”

“Downright Democratic,” Kara agrees. “Don’t suppose there’s another robe? This dress isn’t that comfortable for a leisurely breakfast, and it’s not like I’m zipped up yet.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Cat throws Kara a hotel-fluffy robe from the closet before settling herself in the seating area while the stewards set up breakfast fit for… well, a President. Kara watches on awkwardly, trying to help but succeeding only in getting in the way. Cat pulls her down onto the sofa beside her with a smile. 

“Anything else, Madam President? We can bring up the papers if you’d like?”

“I have my tablet, Lucas, but thank you.” 

She turns to Kara, who’s practically drooling at the sightly of freshly-uncovered pancakes. “By all means, dig in.”

***

It’s not a walk of shame if she does it along Pennsylvania Avenue, Kara decides. Her Prius is waiting at home finally, so she summons an Uber to get her through the wilds of Dupont Circle and installed in her Myriad office before Astra comes looking for her head. Working from home is one thing. Working from the White House residence, between the website restrictions and the attentions of a very determined President, means it’s barely past ten and Kara is already behind for the day.

So completely worth it, but it’s going to seem less so when she’s working even later tonight to make up for it. 

By the time she makes it to the office, Astra is already in with some Congress people, laying on the perks and sweet talk. Kara waves as she strides toward her office, making sure to look purposeful and as though she’s just come from an early meeting. One that didn’t involve a very naked president. 

“Ms Luthor called for you,” Kelly says, popping into Kara’s office as soon as she’s seated at her desk. “Do you need a charger for your phone?”

“I… do, actually,” Kara says with a smile. 

“Top drawer on the left. Should be one for everything you use on the daily. Are you returning the Luthor call direct, or do you want me to place that for you?”

“I’ve got it, thanks,” Kara says. As soon as the door is closed, she checks her reviving phone for Lena’s number and dials from her desk. This is absolutely the time for discretion, despite the fact that half the White House staff already know, including Lucy Lane. Kara is a grown, adult woman, who can manage her own business without interference from others. She can absolutely keep a secret. Lena’s cell rings three times before she picks up, as usual. 

“You are _not_ going to believe what I did last night. And this morning…”

***

The day is unbearably long, topped off by a trip to honor some… thing in Pennsylvania that Cat just hopes she was handed the right speech for. No one lost their mind on Air Force One on the way home, at least, and back from Allentown was only a short ride. It makes her too late for Carter’s goodnight, and that always darkens her mood. She looks in on him, pile of briefing memos in one hand, and smiles at how peaceful he is when he sleeps.

Returning to her own rooms, the temptation to call Kara is stronger than ever. Cat’s never been a stickler for the Rules, hell, she proposed to Robert after turning him down twice. The relative freedom of last night, as well as how good in bed Kara turned out to be, is a heady cocktail that Cat finds herself craving much too soon.

No. If she can hold out for three days over a peace treaty for Lebanon, she can damn well exercise some restraint when it comes to the gorgeous woman she’s dating. On nights like these she wishes things were a little more like her old life, when she could call a friend who’d show up with a nice bottle of wine and distract Cat from everything on her plate.

Still, expanding broadband access to deprived and rural areas isn’t going to write its own legislation, so she’d better get through this draft so the House leadership can be given the go ahead in the morning.

And if she almost falls off the couch in the scramble to retrieve her phone when the text alert sounds, well thank god there are no witnesses to see it.

***

Wherever Alex is, she’s not responding to texts. Which completely justifies Kara doing what she picked her phone up for in the first place. As Kara left the Residence this morning, handed off to a Secret Service escort, Cat had pulled her back just long enough to slip a simple cream-colored card into her hand. Fancy cardstock, embossed numbers. No identifying name or location, but clearly a cell number to reach Cat on. 

She’s cautious about the first text, of course. There’s no guarantee it’s a secure line, even though it would almost have to be. There’s always the outside bet that it’s actually the number for a therapist, to cure Kara of her sudden fondness for older, incredibly powerful women.

_Hey, it’s Kara. Although you’ve always been able to get my number easily enough, so you probably know that already. Is this okay to talk?_

The three dots of impending doom pop up, disappear, and pop up again. 

_Yes, completely secure. Did you want to talk about last night? How’s your hip after that little bit of acrobatics this morning?_

Kara groans at the memory. Why the hell had she bragged about making it onto the cheer squad senior year? 

_My hip’s just fine. Though, like the rest of me, it’s wondering when I might be able to take you out on a real date? I know, there are a billion security considerations, but I know you’ve been able to go to the theater, some nice restaurants, even some cool museums and National Parks with Carter._

Kara stops before her Google prowess tips into stalking.

_You’d go on a date to one of our National Parks?_

She can hear the incredulous tone through the text itself.

_I’d go on any of the above, or anything else you can throw at me. Would be worth it for another date._

The phone rings then, and Kara bites back a girlish giggle before answering. That might just be her girlfriend, the freakin’ President.

***

“Lucille, you don’t usually set foot in a place like this.”

“Dad!” She accepts his hug gracefully. “When my office said you called with a weekday dinner invite, I knew I had to at least come check it out. Just us?”

“No, both daughters are acknowledged for once,” Lois interrupts, the usual edge in her voice as she joins them. While Lucy is still her charcoal pantsuit from the office, Lois has found the time to change into an evening gown, jade green and a little too daringly cut. “So it must be something big. I only have time for a drink, I have a dinner with a friend from the DCCC.”

“What about?” Lucy can’t help pouncing. Her reporter sister in touch with any part of the Democratic machinery makes Lucy nervous, and with good reason. 

“None of your business. Now Dad, what are we really doing here?” Lois persists in her questioning until the waiter has seated them. In his class As, Lucy knows her dad is every bit the military man about town, and she smiles at the newest medals in his collection.

“There’s a young Senator talking tonight, and we’ve had some dealings over Pentagon funding. Rumor has it he’s gonna run against that boss of yours, Lucy. So it might not be too late to change sides.”

“And me?” Lois demands. “Why am I wasting my time?”

“For the scoop, silly,” her dad says, as though she’s ten years old again, questioning the ethics of the cereal industry over breakfast. “Nobody knows he’s running, and if it breaks tonight you’ll need a prime seat. Maybe you’ll make that coverage at the Planet a little less biased too.”

Lucy shoots her sister a rare look of solidarity. The things they put up with for family. Thank God this is one hotel bar that mixes a strong martini.

By the time the speeches start, Lois is eager to be gone, and Lucy is checking her phone more and more frequently as minor crises flare up overnight. None serious enough to excuse her presence, though.

Then Senator Maxwell Lord takes the podium, all toothpaste commercial smiles and artfully styled until it’s unstyled hair. He makes the usual introductions, charmless jokes, and the first of what will no doubt be many calls for donations to his campaign.

“Because I’ve known President Grant a long time,” he says. “Better than most people, in fact. When she lost her husband, we collectively held our hands up and ran the most civilized of campaigns. That was the right thing to do.”

Lucy senses the trap, she just can’t see where it’s coming from yet.

“Only now it seems our President is taking advantage of that cloud cover, day and night. She’s using money and power to do whatever she wants, and sullying our historic institutions as she does so.”

That draws a snort from Lucy. Chance would be a fine thing.

“So, in seeing these things that trouble me, I’ve decided to step up. To be the leader our country is sorely lacking. To restore good faith and good taste to the White House, one day at a time.”

“My name is Maxwell Lord,” he finishes. “And I’m running for President.

The Lane sisters exchange uneasy glances as the applause grows louder, the hollering getting right up there to meet it. 

This is not going to be good. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara and Alex catch up and develop some sister code. Lucy brings real concerns about Lord to Cat, forcing her to listen this time. Carter isn't impressed by his mom's stance on being out.

“Hey,” Alex greets her with an easy hug, back in her formal FBI agent wear for a morning spent on the Hill. “How do we keep missing each other?”

“Well, if you missed breakfast here I’d worry you had a head injury,” Kara says, smiling at their server who is over by their table a second later. “She’s finally here, Michel, we can order.”

“Very well,” Michel says with a smile, nodding to Alex in turn. “Now Ms Danvers, I already know you’ll be tackling the stack with extra syrup this morning, but for yourself, Ms…”

“Also Danvers,” Alex supplies, less reticent than usual. She still twitches for her pocket like she might pull out that damn badge though. “I’ll take the Swiss muesli with almond milk, and whatever kind of fruit plate you can rustle up. How good is your coffee?”

“Hand-pressed and only about 3% less effective than speed?” Michel jokes, and Alex smiles at him. Kara likes when the people around her are getting along.

“Then a very large mug of that would be a great start.” He leaves them to fill the order, and Kara leans in, unable to contain herself anymore.

“I wish we could have had this breakfast in private,” she sighs. “Because damn, you don’t realize how close other tables are until you need to be really sure you won’t be overheard. I’m seeing someone.”

“I suspected as much.” Alex nods, rearranging her heavy silver cutlery. “And given your sudden paranoia, or should I say the careful behavior I’ve been trying to cultivate in you all these years, I don’t have to guess the one being seen, do I?”

“No-”

“But for security, you should consider a codeword. That goes for locations matching the identity too. If you chose Frosty, as in snowman, you might want to consider talking about dates at the North Pole or in Lapland. You see what I’m saying?”

“That we’re playing some kind of kids’ party game to talk about my love life?”

“You’re the one who made it a matter of national security. Now come _on._ How much longer am I expected to be left hanging, huh? I need details, Kara. I only have so much patience.”

“Well where were you when I tried to call? It’s been a couple of days, and your voicemail signoff is really dull.”

“Big op,” is all Alex says, unfolding her napkin into her lap which is more than she generally bothers to do. “No, you know what? Enough of this. If I leave it up to her, I’m going to be the one talking in codes and kids games. I was out. On a date. And then a staying home kind of date last night.”

“With Astra.” Kara doesn’t need to guess. “Did you think I’d mind? I know we’re all interlinked and stuff, but some family members shifting in our teens doesn’t really… you know what I mean.”

“She still thinks it might be weird.”

“Spoiler? Astra thinks that about everything. She’s so used to being the weirdo between her and my mom, she freaks at getting even five steps away from the mainstream. It’s like those military people who can’t help but make their bed a certain way, even when they haven’t served in thirty years.” Kara smiles at the sight of their coffee approaching with Michel. “It must be getting serious, if you’re telling me.”

“Hey, I’m trying.” Alex smiles into her coffee. It’s not often even Kara gets to see her this unguarded. “But stop deflecting. How’s your… professor?”

Kara scrunches her nose at that, but it’s technically true since Cat spent some time teaching between running the media and running for Governor. “Fantastic. I got to participate in this um, overnight fellowship? And I think I’m getting extra credit.”

That’s enough to make Alex almost inhale her coffee when she snorts. “So what’s next?”

“Next I get to arrange a date… off-campus? I just need to think of something easy to chaperone that also guarantees us a little privacy.”

“Can you even do that? Wouldn’t the faculty have something to say about it?”

“I have a secure line and I know a couple of the secretaries. I think that might be enough. Now I just have to think of something. That doesn’t make me look like a complete dork who’s useless at dating.”

“I think your exes would disagree,” Alex assures her. “Well, you were pretty useless with Mike, but he wasn’t worth the effort. And I don’t think Lena had many complaints. I’m starting to think you have a type, Kara…”

“Ha ha.” Their breakfasts arrive and Kara hears her stomach rumble at the sight of her pancakes. They deserve her full attention. Besides, all her best planning has been done on a full stomach.

***

“Lucy?” Cat isn’t expecting her Deputy Chief of Staff to be lying in wait, but it’s very unusual. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday. With the Jordan situation…”

“Understood, Madam President.” In her crisp Prada skirt suit, Lucy is the sharpest dresser in the West Wing. She struts on her four-inch heels like she knows it, too. “But I feel we do still need to have a conversation. You might also want to sit down with James, maybe bring Winn in on some polling.”

“Haven’t we just run a solid block of polling?” Cat makes her way back into the Oval with the file she was looking for, Lucy at her heels. “Weren’t you the one who predicted our bump to 63%?”

“I was, and I’d like to build on that.” Lucy remains standing until Cat sits, minding her manners as always. The military bearing is more apparent in moments like these, the steel behind the supermodel looks. “But at this point I confess I’d settle for maintaining it. The rumor mill is already cranking up.”

“They’ve finally discovered I don’t like baseball?”

“Ma’am, I enjoy the banter as much as the next person, but can I speak candidly?”

“I’ve never known you to do anything else, Lucy.”

She’s back on her feet, pacing on the rich carpeting of the Oval Office. Cat frowns at the genuine agitation. It’s hardly uncommon for Lucy to go all-in on a issue she cares about, but Cat has rarely seen the woman ruffled. 

“My father invited me out the other night. While you were entertaining, in fact. Something that, just to remind you, there will be an official record of. Every guest to the White House is logged, and that includes the Residence.”

“I’m well aware. What did your father want? I’m sorry I didn’t appoint him Chairman, Lucy, but our views on military deployment are too far apart. It would lead to nothing but friction.”

“No ma’am, and I agreed with your assessment at the time. Due respect, perhaps my father should be Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, but I don’t believe it should be under your Presidency. No, he invited me--and my _sister_ \--to see Senator Lord give a speech. He’s running.”

“We all guessed as much. Max doesn’t show up to so much as a bakesale without a hidden agenda. I beat him handily in California, is there any reason to think I won’t again?”

“Dad seems to think he was giving us a front row seat to something special. The comments made in Lord’s speech were veiled, but it suggests he knows exactly what front he’s coming after you on?”

“Let me guess… my hair? He’s always been jealous of it, you know.” Lucy’s shoulders tighten even further at the flippancy. Perhaps this once, Cat can roll it in. She does for Carter, for Hank, and maybe already for Kara. Lucy has done her time, maybe she’s earned that much. “If I were him, a thought which is going to keep me up at night, so let’s defund any science that might make it possible, I’d go after my character.”

“You know it’s not a coincidence that he announces right after you start dating.”

“The media-”

“Isn’t stupid. The gal pal thing works, to a point. When they want to sell papers without scaring off the _can’t even look at a gay_ crowd. But a confirmed lesbian affair will sell more than it turns away. I know you’re not naive, ma’am.”

“I just thought…” Cat realizes she’s getting personal, but chances to do that are so rare. “God help me, Major Lane. I _like_ her. Isn’t that just kick you in the ass, set fire to the Constitution ridiculous? I was happily married for years, to a perfectly palatable man. Now, with more scrutiny than anyone has ever faced, I think I’m falling for a woman.”

“That’s before we even tackle the age gap,” Lucy continues as professionally as ever. “Not that it’s a visible one, ma’am. Just on paper.”

“They give out Purple Hearts for ass-kissing, Lane?”

“No ma’am,” Lucy comes to a halt, adjusts her stance. “But since I won mine for actions in Afghanistan, I don’t suppose I need to bother with a second.”

Too far, then. Duly noted. Of all her staffers, Cat can count on Lucy to tell the truth.

“Say I wanted just a little longer. Another pleasant date or two. I know the risks, but can we swing it?”

“If you’re careful,” Lucy concedes. “We’ve been lucky this far, and Senator Lord isn’t fully up and running yet. He needs backers, and he needs their money. But when he starts pointing people in the right direction… there’ll be nowhere to hide.”

“I’m not scared of name-calling, Lucy. Never have been. You can’t be in politics if you are.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about. Kara’s a lobbyist. Do you think she’ll ever work in this town again if the story breaks? And those names you can withstand, I’m pleased for you, ma’am. But people will write them down, and they’ll say them on TV. They’ll say them where scared kids and closeted adults can hear them. Hear the hate and the violence behind them. So if you unleash those bigots, if you give them a target? You’d better be prepared to shield everyone else from the crossfire.”

Sometimes Cat wonders if they shouldn’t all be following Lucy’s command. In moments like these, even Cat would follow her into hell. 

“You make a good point and you did it without taking cheap shots, like bringing up Carter. That’s… appreciated. Let me have this next date with Kara, quietly, and I’ll find the best way to wind it down. We have to start focusing on reelection sometime.”

Lucy lets out a quick sigh of relief before sorting her papers and making for the door of the Oval. “I’ll leave you to it.”

There’s no time to dwell, or at least no time that Cat will allow herself. There’s a nation to run, and that starts with the file in her hands. She gets comfortable on the sofa, and starts parsing the information. All things Kara will simply have to wait.

***

“I really appreciate this,” Kara says for the third time, still getting less than zero reaction from Siobhan. “I know the President is in New York today, so it’s great that you took the time to help me. But if you’re still super busy, I could check in with Mrs. Landingham?”

“It’s easier through me, I have the whole schedule at my disposal whereas she only handles the social side. Oh, Dolores could run the country single-handedly, but she’s worked through enough administrations that we wanted to lighten the load a little this time around. I’m sure you’d understand if, you know, you had a soul.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear about lobbyists,” Kara counters, sipping at her smoothie. There’s something gross and green and healthy in it that she didn’t ask for. The perils of meeting a White House staffer for lunch. “Do you think my plan is feasible?”

“I’ll run it past the head of the Presidential detail. Sam is tough but fair, she knows the president needs a life, and Carter does too. I will say it sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

“Thank you, I just want it to go well and--”

“Of course if you really cared, you’d either settle for behind closed doors or call the whole thing off. Don’t you have an environmental bill to pass? How do you think your swing votes will react to you suddenly being outed as the president’s bit on the side?”

Kara squeezes her smoothie cup almost hard enough to crack it. “I’ve never relied on sexuality or who I’m dating to flip votes. I have no intention of starting now.”

“I had heard that you being involved with a Luthor made things twice as hard as they needed to be, back with the education board.” Siobhan looks so smug that Kara’s oddly compelled to slap her. Instead she stands, slapping cash on the table to cover both of their lunches.

“Well, you heard wrong. If you can have someone call me about Friday, that would be great. I’ll keep making plans for it all unless I hear otherwise.”

“What’s your angle?” Siobhan grabs her by the elbow. “I meant to ask you at the State Dinner, but there were so many people around. You got the book deal all lined up? Or going straight for serialization and the talk show circuit? Because I’d like to remind you that while she’s just some political figure to you, she’s a lot more than that to all of us. Especially her son.”

“I would never--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Siobhan lets go and waves Kara away. “Spare me the Mary Sunshine routine. I don’t want to have to replay it in my head when you pop up on CNN.”

“I _won’t_.”

Siobhan considers a moment. “I think you actually mean that. How cute. Remember how this feels, because once you take that first check it all goes away. The president is a good woman. She trusts people. She pays people like me not to trust anyone at all.”

“And keep her diary.” Kara can’t help making a face about it.

“I serve at the pleasure of the president,” is all Siobhan says in return, before they’re striding to separate exits. 

_Shit_ , Kara realizes. Did she just blow her one chance of a real date with Cat? There’s every chance Siobhan will freeze things from the inside. Oh well, nothing wrong with dinner at the White House. Just so long as there’s something.

***

“Ms Danvers?”

Kara rolls off her yoga mat with the phone, trying to get back to sitting without a rush of blood to her head. After a couple of long days at the office, hustling for time with Senators and Congresspeople alike, she needs the relaxation.

“Yeah?” Some Congressional staffer maybe?

“This is Special Agent Arias, I’m head of the president’s Secret Service detail. While I’m contacting you on a secure line, I need to check first of all that there’s no one else nearby who can overhear the content of our call.”

“No one,” Kara says in confirmation, dragging the towel over her face. She has a funny feeling they can confirm that for themselves, so she hopes they don’t mind her sweaty and disheveled. “I’m at home, alone.”

“Good, and you won’t attempt to record, broadcast or in any way share the contents of this call?”

“Of course not.” If Kara’s a little huffy, it’s only because everyone is doubting her again. “Can I help you, Agent?”

“Siobhan Smythe contacted me about your plans with President Grant. I’m happy to say we’ve reviewed them and the operation can proceed with just a few minor modifications.”

“It can?” Kara jumps to her feet, biting back a squeal. “Oh wow, I really thought you’d say no.”

“There are some elements that give us cause for concern. Driving yourselves, for example, is a no-go.”

“Oh.” Kara knows her Prius isn’t exactly an old-school Cadillac with the top down, but the privacy might have been nice. “Won’t a motorcade draw more attention?”

“We have a smaller configuration that draws less attention. You’ll be subject to a full scan and search before joining the trip.”

“Fine.”

“The White House kitchens will provide the requested menu in picnic baskets and coolers. Your venue has been approved and secured for three hours, and the movie will be screened. The only other adjustment is that the seating for the President and yourself will be under a canopy, guarded by my team. If any of this is a dealbreaker, feel free to speak now and save us the additional work, Ms Danvers.”

“It’s to make the president happy,” Kara stands her ground. It comes as naturally to her as breathing. “Doesn’t that make everyone else happy, or something?”

“Honestly?” Agent Arias comes right back at her. “I’m happy when she wants to watch a movie in the home theater with Carter. Or stays in with a bottle of wine and a good book. But it’s not about what I want.”

“No, I guess not.” Kara feels sorry for the agents, the ones who put their life on the line every day to keep Cat and Carter safe. For that alone, Kara already feels like she owes them, big time. “But if this goes well then I guess we can stay local for a while after. Keep things easy.”

“I’d appreciate that, Ms Danvers.”

“Call me Kara.”

“Of course, Ms Danvers. We’ll pick you up at 11 hundred hours on Sunday. Please be prompt.”

The call ends and Kara shakes her head. Somehow, this whole process isn’t getting any less weird. 

***

Carter looks up in surprise when Cat sweeps in to join him for dinner. 

“I thought you were in a meeting about Venezuela?”

“Brazil, but all the beach shots were making me miserable so we wrapped early. Did you save me some meatloaf?”

“Mom, I haven’t had meatloaf in about ten years. I don’t think the kitchens here even know what it is.”

“Sure they do,” Cat insists, kissing the top of Carter’s head on her way to her seat. “I’ll request it for next week. Just to see you making that face, my spoiled prince.”

“Is this going to be like the time after Iowa when you were trying to convince the staff you were ‘just folks’ and drank filter coffee for a week? Black?” Carter is enjoying teasing her as he spears some asparagus with his heavy silver fork. “Because we both know you’re the kind of soft coastal elite who drinks her free trade coffee with soy milk.”

“You know, that school of yours might be making you too smart,” Cat muses as the steward sets down her bowl of soup. “What’s the opposite of an AP class, let’s sign you up for some of those.”

“I think that’s just double recess. Sign me up.”

They both know he’s kidding. 

“Speaking of getting outdoors, are you sure you’re okay to go with your grandparents this weekend? You’ll have your usual agents too, but if you’d rather they came to the White House…”

“They hate it here. And honestly? It’ll be nice to go out to the ranch. I mean, grandpa still wishes I was good with the horses like dad, but we’re getting there, you know? I miss them. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Of course.” Cat reaches across to squeeze his hand. “And if you want to see them more often, we can make that happen. Thank god you got one decent set of grandparents.”

“Grandma’s fine,” Carter lies. “But I don’t really like going to Metropolis. It’s just as bad as being here, with all the people and the places I can’t go. So what are you going to do this weekend? Isn’t it about time you took up golf, Mom?”

“Ha, ha,” Cat answers, deadpan. “And my handicap is just fine, thank you. All these years of keeping up with dull men.” Her phone pings, and she smiles at Kara’s name on the screen.

“Oh, so that’s what you’re doing this weekend,” Carter says, smirking at her. “You’re grinning like a dork, you know.”

“I believe the phrase is ‘takes one to know one’.” Cat enjoys teasing him right back. “Although this might be the last time, at least while I’m President. I can’t open my life up to the casual homophobia of the American people. Or expose Kara to it, either.”

“Why not?”

Cat takes a sip of wine. “Because other people get hurt by the hate, Carter. They don’t have all this to protect them.”

“Sounds like a good reason for someone prominent to make it normal. Accepted, I mean.” Carter watches her carefully, and Cat can’t meet his eye. “But I guess that won’t be someone in politics, right? Because getting elected matters more?”

“Carter--”

“It’s fine. I get it. I just thought you seemed happy for the first time since Dad. Guess that doesn’t matter either.”

“I really don’t walk to talk about this.” Cat is insistent, relieved as the seconds go by and Carter lets it drop. Only a minute later he’s on his feet, still chewing.

“I have homework.”

“Carter!” Cat calls after him, but he doesn’t stop. She could chase him down, but what’s the point? Checking her phone again, she sees the unread message from Kara. 

Maybe unread is how it should stay. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date, a date... will this very important date go ahead? What will it mean if it does? Does Kara have any game when it comes to organizing dates? Let's find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is my fifth wedding anniversary, so I'm posting up early to go enjoy a night on the town with the wife. Please enjoy in my absence!

“You sure you won’t be lonely?” Carter asks from the sofa across the Oval where he’s doing the last of his homework, frowning at some equations before deftly solving them. Cat gestures to her desk, covered with stacks of briefing books despite her insistence on going as green as possible. She shudders to think how much more is waiting on her tablet for her.

“I’ll barely have a moment to miss you, darling,” she groans, leaning back in her chair and taking her reading glasses off. She pinches her nose against an oncoming headache. “Is it too late for me to tag along in your suitcase?”

“There’s no room, I’m smuggling Presidential M&Ms for grandpa.”

“I could rat you out to the Secret Service, get you on the no fly list,” Cat warns with a smile. 

“Yeah, because I’m going to be flying commercial anytime soon. You’re hilarious, mom. Are you--”

“Don’t ask me that, please.” Cat stands, pacing around her desk. Right on cue, the head of Carter’s detail arrives to collect him. Unexpectedly, Cat’s own head of detail is in tow. “Have a wonderful weekend. Give my love to your grandparents. And _behave_.”

“Only if you do,” Carter tells her with a hug before grabbing his backpack and dashing out of the room. 

“Sam?” Cat asks, settling back behind her desk. She’s grown used to the woman’s presence since the campaign, but it’s rare for the agent to just show up unless summoned or there’s a scheduled security review. It’s worth risking a glance to see if any other agents are gathering to whisk her away. That would only happen in the event of a major breach, and like hell is she going to the bunker.

“Madam President.” Sam takes her usual spot off to the side of Cat’s desk. “I just wanted to let you know that everything is approved for Sunday.”

“For Sunday?” Cat’s hand instinctively goes to the silenced phone in her pocket. She’s been busy. She’s running a country for God’s sake. “Yes, about that…”

Sam stiffens. “You wanted to change the plans?”

“And if I did? I am the President, it does happen sometimes.”

The smile is tight and stoic. “Of course, ma’am. It’s just… We’ll make any changes you deem necessary.”

“What about canceling altogether?” It’s the last thing she wants, and absolutely the smartest thing to do. Cat has gotten this far by consistently doing that right thing. “I would think you’d be relieved if I just stay home.”

“Of course.” Sam moves to take her leave, but Cat catches the hesitation from the otherwise determined agent. 

“What’s bothering you, Samantha? I’ve always said I need my Secret Service agents to be honest with me. Let’s not change that now.”

“It’s just…” Sam absent-mindedly reaches for the petal of the African violets that sit on the side table in a vase Cat has had since leaving her parent’s home. “This Kara, she… I mean, she put a lot of thought into it. Contingencies for if you had to bring Carter, three different states in case something unexpected flared up… ma’am due respect, but if anyone had ever put that much effort into dating me, I probably wouldn’t be single right now.”

Cat’s resolve melts in the face of that declaration. Of course Kara had gone above and beyond, hadn’t Cat pegged her right away as something special? Interest in dating anyone had been non-existent for years now, the exception being this woman who seemed determined to capture Cat’s heart. Not to mention that there hadn’t been even a whisper to the press, despite the rush to sleeping together, and Cat’s loyalty was hard-won but permanent. 

To hell with it. If she can nuke an entire country for sport, she can go on a goddamned date.

“Then canceling won’t be necessary. What time should I be ready on Sunday?”

“We’ve run it through Siobhan, but pickup is 11, so wheels out of here at 10.43am, Madam President.”

There’s a knock on the door adjoining Hank’s office, which Sam takes as her cue to disappear. 

“You look happy,” he says, only a hint of accusation. “Would now be a good time to tell you the senior Senator from Florida is on C-SPAN advocating that they secede from the Union?”

“Ah, it’s Florida,” Cat dismisses with a wave of her hand. “I say we let them. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Well tourism-”

“Yes, but not having to deal with Florida. Work with me here, Mr. Henshaw.”

“You’re in a punchy little mood. Carter get away okay?”

Cat gestures for him to sit. She can’t abide her staff towering over her all the time. “On his way to Andrews now. Thankfully, his grandparents don’t live in Florida.”

“Is that why you’re willing to lose a state? Missing your boy?” Hanks asks with the care of a man walking through a field of landmines. Cat doesn’t want to seem overly precious about it. A weekend apart from her son is nothing compared to what Hank went through all those years ago. 

“I miss him all the time,” she confesses. “But I won’t be in this job forever. Although I suspect you’re here to talk reelection, aren’t you?”

Hank gives her that wry smile, and pulls up something on his tablet screen. “Lucy and Winn have been working on some polling data, and they’re suggesting an early south-west swing, get out in front of a few bubbling issues out there.”

“I’ll have Siobhan pack the sunblock. Listen, none of this starts this weekend, does it? Only…”

“Nothing before Tuesday,” Hank assures her. “Hot date?”

“Something like that. A discreet one though, I promise that much. It won’t be a problem for the staff? If I have to hear from Lucy again on this topic, it might not end well.”

“Consider it handled,” Hank assures her. “In fact, I’ll go distract them with approval for this plan. And Madam President?” He calls back, having made it all the way to the door. “Enjoy yourself.”

***

“Kara.” Astra greets her with a frown, glancing towards the counter where Alex is flirting her way to another shot of espresso in her oversized latte. “I didn’t know you were coming to brunch.”

“I’m not,” Kara replies, still in her running gear. “But you’re the only people I know who get up disgustingly early on a Sunday, and who I could talk to before 10am without getting a restraining order.”

“Hey, Kar,” Alex joins them, feinting to kiss Astra’s cheek before thinking better of it and sitting heavily in your seat. “When you asked where we were eating, I didn’t know you were dropping in. Don’t you have plans… with your professor?”

“Yeah, about that,” Kara seizes on the chance to unload, stealing a piece of bacon from Astra’s plate, reveling in the horrified glare. “I’ve been thinking, and off-campus is a terrible idea. I mean, what was I thinking? At least when we’re in, uh, the classroom, we know where everyone stands. Why am I trying to mess with that?”

“Well, thank god neither of you got it into your heads to apply for the CIA.” Astra’s accusation ends in a groan. “Who, exactly, is this code supposed to be fooling?”

“Hey!” Alex protests. “It’s not deep cover, it’s plausible deniability.”

“We all know whom Kara is dating.”

“Speaking of dating on the DL,” Kara tries to turn the conversation around. “Any word on what’s going on here, Astra? I’d hate to think your personal life could distract you from Myriad at such a crucial time.”

Alex looks betrayed, but Kara has to hold her nerve.

“Perhaps it is possible to… date… without bringing the company to its knees.” From Astra that’s one hell of a concession, and she returns to pointedly eating her bacon so Kara can’t steal anymore. “That said, Alexandra is in quite a different position to your… _lover._ ”

Kara can’t help the giggle that escapes. “I don’t want to know what positions you’ve been getting her in, thanks all the same. But now everyone knows where we are, do I go ahead with this crazy Sunday date? I have… 90 minutes to get ready.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Alex practically squeals. “Do you need us to come pick out clothes? Fix your hair? What?”

“Uh, I’ll be fine after a shower,” Kara points out. “I’m keeping it casual, low key. That’s the whole point. A nice dress, a bit of lip gloss, and I’m all set.”

“You’re lucky you’re so naturally beautiful,” Astra scoffs. “Otherwise you’d have to put the work in like everyone else.”

“Hey, I ran six miles before I crashed your lovefest,” Kara points out, getting up and reactivating her tracker for the short jog home. “Thanks, though. I guess I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Unless the New York Times tells us first.” Astra is right back to being unhelpful. 

“Have fun, Kara!” Alex calls after her. Determined to relax, Kara cranks up her music volume and concentrates on the beat of her steps. 

It’s going to be fine.

***

Cat fusses with the collar of her shirt, unsure if it’s too fussy for what the day holds in store. Can she really go so far wrong with a pale blue shirt, jeans in regulation indigo, ankle boots and a leather jacket she’s had since college? Left to her own devices for the first time in years, she’d almost resorted to FaceTiming Siobhan for outfit approval. Most ensembles since she started running for Governor had been focus grouped or arranged in some particular way, leaving her just to pluck things from the hangar each morning.

Would she look too old? Or worse, trying too desperately to roll her age back, closer to Kara’s? She’d steered clear of frumpy and unfashionable at least, Cat had always had sense enough of her style not to completely screw it up. Hard to plan for the unknown, and her suddenly chatty head of detail is being reticent on what the day holds.

This? This minor, pointless stress? Is why the President of the United States has no business dating, or being frivolous, or enjoying anything at all about-

But then the opposite back door of the SUV opens and Kara slips in with a smile and nod to the agent who closes it behind her. 

“Hey,” she breathes, leaning in to kiss Cat’s cheek in a shower fresh cloud of soap and lightly floral perfume. “Your guys don’t kid around when they tell you 11, huh?”

“Believe it or not, I do run a tight ship,” Cat teases. “We tend to travel at speed, so you might want to…” She gestures at the seatbelt, even though her own is still undone. The agents prefer to restrain her bodily in the event of impact, that’s what the drills allow for. It’s more important they be able to extricate her from the vehicle in an instant. It’s a little different now they’re not in the limo, The Beast, as it’s affectionately known. Here in a regulation black SUV, Cat can lean across and pull Kara’s belt for her, sliding it over the soft cashmere of her pale blue cardigan, and the stiffer navy of her dress beneath. 

Then Cat sits back and clicks her own belt into place, just in time for the thump on the roof that says they’re on their way. 

“So what’s the plan?” Cat demands, as though she didn’t spend most of the intervening time trying to cancel this very outing. “Whatever it is, I think you impressed my agents.”

“They’re good people,” Kara says readily, reaching across the small space between them and tentatively taking Cat’s hand in her own. “Hmm,” she smiles at their entwined fingers. “That’s better.”

Cat turns her head toward the tinted window, heart racing in her chest. On what planet did she think she could give this up? Kara, so stunning and so kind, so free with her affection despite working in the Washington swamp that’s supposed to chew up and spit out girls like her. This instant loyalty, this thoughtfulness to arrange a date under the most trying of circumstances, when most people would have settled for another roll in the Presidential hay…

Kara sees her, Cat realizes. Past the title, past the pomp and circumstance. There hasn’t been anyone like that since… well, since Robert. And he still had to get used to the CEO, media mogul circus which was exasperating enough. With Kara, Cat could be back at the Daily Planet, a cub reporter with more ambition than raw talent, making the most of it at every turn. 

All that from simply holding hands? Cat would snort at herself if she were talking out loud. Is she so starved for basic human contact? But then Kara squeezes ever so gently, reassurance Cat isn’t even asking for, and there’s no cynicism left to sweep that away. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice a little strained. Cat keeps watching out of the window as the outskirts of the city whizz past. “For doing all this.”

“Worth it,” Kara assures her. “Can I just ask one thing?”

Cat turns, finally trusting herself not to well up or other mortifying things. “What?”

“Let go? Enjoy yourself. Everything’s already planned, and the agents know what they’re doing. Just… be here, with me. That’s all you have to do today. The rest of the world will be waiting for you tomorrow, we both know that. But today they don’t get to have.”

“Well, Ms Danvers.” Cat retreats behind fake formality, smiling as she does. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

***

They’re somewhere in Maryland when they come to a stop, far from the main roads and more than a little jostled by a bumpy track. Kara feels the panic rise in her throat with every pothole, wondering why the hell she thought this was a good idea. Before her nerve can fail, the SUV and its discreet companions roll to a halt in a small parking lot, and Kara smiles in recognition.

The agents have them sit tight for a few minutes, which is to be expected. Kara watches Cat try to discreetly take in their surrounding, her grin fixed and not at all convincing. 

“Don’t worry, this is just the parking lot,” Kara reassures, but before she can explain any more, the car doors are opening and they’re stepping out with their respective agents. Sam takes point as they walk down the path to their destination. 

“There are small teams at each of the four compass points, no more than yelling distance. And I say this for the sake of discretion ma’am, but I don’t mean yelling all that loud. We’ve tried to give all the perimeter we can, but there are limits.”

Another agent comes jogging across with the basket Kara requested, and she’s relieved to take it from the tall man who seems a little out of sorts with re-folding the pretty gingham blanket to go with it.

“Well, a picnic will be… different,” Cat says, not sounding remotely enthused. “Although to save you time, we could have achieved much the same effect in the Rose Garden.”

“Oh shush,” Kara teases, hardly daring to. “Thank you for all your help, Agent. I just flip the switch, right?”

“To do what?” Cat interrupts, but Sam just smiles at them. 

“I’ll be your nearest agent, ma’am. I’d like to remind you that I’m a good Christian girl and I don’t want to be scarred for life. If that’s okay with both of you.” She steps aside then, and Kara leads the rest of the short distance to their destination. 

And oh, it’s still kind of perfect. The summer camp she’d attended as a child has been closed to the public years, but she’d kept in touch with the owners and done some fundraising for them. It was how she knew their small outdoor ampitheatre complete with drive-in style movie screen was still fully functional. 

“What is this place?” Cat demands, turning around slowly under the canopy of trees. The sunlight peeking through is enough, but the paper lanterns Kara requested are boosting it a little. She sets the basket and blanket down, walking over to a generator propped up by a hand-carved bench. With a flip of the switch the projector whirrs into life and the screen unfurls into place in front of them.

“Well I figured the local multiplex wasn’t really an option,” Kara points out, before returning to the work of laying out the blanket over smooth ground. “You know, Madam President, out here in the country we think everyone should get her hands dirty.”

“Right!” Cat is watching the screen as it warms, the MGM logo coming into focus. “What can I do?”

“You can start unpacking the picnic you were so apprehensive about. Not a single egg salad sandwich in there, I promise.”

Kara sits cross-legged on the blanket and watches Cat unload their goodies, from the splashy bottle of red that was apparently next on the ‘to drink’ list kept by the White House sommelier, to the cute bowls of salad, fancier sandwiches than Kara had ever eaten, and desserts that she’d been fantasizing about ever since the agents had confirmed her whole list had been approved by the White House kitchens. In another life, Kara would have raided her local delis and food market, but she’s getting better at working within the system these days. 

“How did you…? I know this is, but I’ve never told them…”

“Siobhan helped,” Kara supplies. “Well, sort of. And I know how to research. I can’t exactly Facebook stalk you like any other new … date, but you give plenty of interviews. Some of them are even useful, when it comes to your favorite dishes.”

“This is all so… I haven’t done anything this normal in years,” Cat admits, tearing up just a little. 

“Hey, hey,” Kara shuffles closer to pull her into a hug. “If this is too plain folks, just say the word and we’ll empty out a restaurant for lunch. It’s DC, there’s bound to be someone we both hate out having lunch that we can inconvenience.” 

“Thank you,” Cat says by way of reply, turning in Kara’s arms to kiss her soundly on the lips. “What am I going to do with you? There has to be something wrong with you.”

“Well, remember I’m an immoral lobbyist and we have a bet about just who’s going to get environmental regs changed in this country,” Kara can’t help but remind her. “Doesn’t seem to be getting in our way so far, though.”

“No,” Cat agrees. “It really doesn’t.” She straddles Kara’s lap while on her knees, and the kiss this time is far more adventurous. “What’s the movie?”

“Well I wanted to steer clear of politics, but I know you’re a Hepburn head. Katharine, not Audrey, don’t worry.”

“Almost a misstep,” Cat admitted. “Though I don’t know why anyone thinks I have anything _against_ Audrey. Other than My Fair Lady.”

“Harsh,” Kara protests, between kisses. “You’ve seen Woman of the Year before, right?”

“Of course, it’s one of my… why?” Cat is instantly suspicious. 

“Cause I don’t think we’re going to see much of it,” Kara explains, yanking Cat’s jacket down her arms and off, only a little awkward. “But if you already know the plot…”

The movie sparkles into life behind Kara as she carefully tips Cat onto her back, and they don’t make it to the wine and snacks until the end credits are rolling. Kara thinks maybe they caught a Hepburn zinger or two in the middle while catching their breath.

“I know most of the time it’s going to be the White House, or some Georgetown restaurant willing to close for half a day, but I’m glad we did this,” Kara says, eating olives in just her cardigan and underwear. “I wanted to give you something normal.”

“I could stand a little more normal,” Cat admits, stretching as she buttons her shirt up. “If I eat any more of this chocolate torte, I won’t get my jeans back on.”

“Bare legs all the way back? What a shame,” Kara teases. “We still have twenty, don’t worry. I’ll help.”

“You know,” Cat pours them both some more wine. “I was going to call all this off. My staff… they made some good points about free flying homophobia, about who might get caught in the crossfire while I’m insulated in my ivory tower…”

“You were?” Kara tries not to let the hurt show. She should have expected at least reconsideration. 

“I was. I’m not going to start out by lying to you. The Presidency isn’t some secret identity I want to hide behind. No excuses, Kara.”

“Does you being here today mean…”

“That I want to date you? Properly. Yes, it does. I like you, and I want to see you more. Maybe you’ll get tired of me, or maybe the fuss will be too much, but how do we ever find out if we don’t _try?_ ”

Kara smiles, the sudden weight rolling right off her. She kisses Cat tenderly, tasting chocolate and wine. “Then that’s all that matters. The rest? Has a way of sorting itself out.”

“You’re ready for this? Reporters hounding you? Your fifth grade boyfriend giving interviews on CNN? The Enquirer saying you’re having my alien baby?”

“I think kids are a way off,” Kara answers, but she shakes her head about the rest. “I’m sure there’s a strategy out there of give them just enough to keep everyone in line. Like the Brits do, whenever one of the princes gets married off to a commoner.”

“I don’t think that’s what they call them.”

“No, it is,” Kara insists. “Some things don’t change, but I don’t want to believe America is one of them. You’ve always been open about your sexuality. People shouldn’t get to change their mind just because they see some small evidence of it.”

“It could affect your work-”

“ _Nothing_ gets in the way of my duty to my family, and to the environment,” Kara assures her. “Let’s just see if it even gets that bad, before we give everything up. You know, this is where Democrats always go wrong. We run around resigning and wringing our hands, while the Republicans do whatever they want and don’t even ask for forgiveness later anymore.”

“Fortune favors the brave?” Cat teases.

“Something like that. Now, Madam President, we’d better see about getting your pants and my dress back on, before we scandalize half of the Treasury Department. Agreed?”

Cat nods, but she’s pulling Kara down on top of her. “We still have time.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their date in the woods, it's back to something like normal. Kara has more Senators to convince, including Senator Luthor from Metropolis. 
> 
> Meanwhile Cat is off to Mexico for a flying state visit, and the White House is gearing up to spend some serious political capital.

Monday dawns with a murky gray sky, spitting rain that soaks through from the moment the city blinks fully into life. Cat takes her morning coffee out on the Truman Balcony before 6am, watching the city come to life as she hums Sinatra under her breath. Thank God the President has immunity from prosecution, that old regal infallibility they imported from Britain, because the cliché police would be well within their rights to slap their cuffs on Cat.

And shit, she really doesn’t need to be thinking about handcuffs, not when she sleeps in a four-poster bed almost every night. Cat hasn’t ever asked if her agents carry cuffs to detain people, but they must carry something. No. She does not need the image of Kara, with nothing but the glint of chrome at her wrists, distracting Cat from the country’s business today.

The budget talks are slowing, becoming more fractious by the day. If they don’t get some unruly people in line, fast, they might well be heading for a shutdown. That is not a legacy Cat particularly wants to carry with her, not when she based her campaign on being the candidate who could talk her way through anything, the businesswoman-in-chief. 

_Glad it wasn’t this wet yesterday_. She can’t resist a quick text on the secure number. 

_Wasn’t it?_ Kara returns quick as a flash, and Cat wonders what she’s doing across town right now. She’s heard a little about Kara’s new apartment, and no doubt on lobbyist money it’ll be something quite grand. 

_Down girl, I haven’t finished my coffee yet._ Cat’s smirking at her phone like a lovesick teenager all the same.

_Then hop to it, MP. I don’t want my country grinding to a halt because your staff won’t play nice with Republicans (or lobbyists)._

_MP?_ Cat is ready to shoot back, until realization hits. _Madam President._ Well that’s a nickname she hadn’t expected. Worse, she actually kind of likes it. It’s the kind of intimacy she’s been missing for so long, and it’s just so easy with Kara that Cat barely noticed it starting to happen. 

Instead she fires off a quick reply that should give them both something to look forward to. _I know we’re busy start of the week, but let’s try and make something happen Thursday? In a field, on the Hill, at Chuck E. Cheese, I don’t mind._

_Thursday works._ _Could be a night ‘in’ if that’s easier. You do have a very comfortable bed._

Cat forces herself to put the phone away, or the budget meeting is going to run late as well as frustrating the hell out of her. Then she has the summit in Mexico to prepare for, and by the time she gets back Wednesday evening she wants to have her head and her schedule mostly cleared to make Thursday happen.

She can do it. She can do just about anything, if she puts her mind to it. 

***

“Kara, hey!” Lena greets her with an easy hug, and Kara wills herself not to stiffen. It’s been weird for her, since their distant breakup, that Lena is still so ready with physical affection. Knowing how little positive contact she had growing up, and how it doesn’t come easy for Lena, Kara has never quite been able to voice her discomfort. Besides, they’re friends now, and it’s nice to get back to Metropolis, if only for the day.

“Lena, it’s so good to see you. I haven’t even been gone that long, but coming back here is always like a recharge for me.”

“Just to see me?”

“Well sure, you. And my cousin, and of course this is actually a work trip so-”

“Kara, Kara. I was teasing.” There’s still the hint of a pout at Lena’s red lips though. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

“I am with you as my human shield,” Kara agrees. “What kind of mood is she in?”

“Mother? Well, let’s just say she’s in one of her better moods. Considering.”

Kara groans. Meeting with the Senator has already been tricky enough to arrange, hence the agreement to meeting on her own turf. Lillian Luthor’s moods are fickle and legendary, and she has never been a fan of Kara’s or Myriad. For this particular Republican there’s no such thing as climate change, and even if there were, it would probably be immigrants to blame. Lillian has acquired a lot of money and power by saying and voting for bigoted measures for decades. 

But Kara promised Astra (and Cat) that she would fight for every last vote. There’s no ideological compromise to be had here, but in politics it’s rarely about people suddenly seeing the light, converting on the road to Damascus. 

No, Kara is going to have to hold her nose and make some compromises, and she has a few common enemies in mind that she’s ready to throw under the bus. It seems a million miles from movies under the trees yesterday. Part of her is relieved that Cat doesn’t get to see this side of Kara’s job. At least not firsthand. 

“You promise you’ll be free for lunch after?” She asks Lena, who smiles in acknowledgment. “I think I’ll need the calories to recover.”

“You’ll be fine, Kara. And I want all the latest gossip before we even get to our appetizers, deal?”

“Deal.” It’ll be nice to tell someone, because Kara feels like she might be bursting at the seams with newfound happiness. Even apprehension over the imminent round of pork-barrel politicking can’t truly dampen that. 

***

“Madam President?” Winn always makes it sound like a question. 

“Yes, Winslow?”

“You uh, last week you said with the great numbers and all, you asked me to look at some issues that we haven’t had the political capital for so far. To see if it brought anything new to the, uh, table?”

“I was there, yes. You want to spit it out before I have to leave for the summit?”

“Well, ma’am, I was doing some crunching and if I’m reading this right--and I usually am--I think we can finally do something about guns.”

Cat sits bolt upright in her desk chair. She’d been lounging a little reading through briefing books on minor but necessary talking points for Central America. Now her best pollster has just brought her the first glimpse in two years of her great white whale: gun control.

“You’re kidding. How far-ranging?”

“Well, we can’t throw out the second amendment, obviously. But we could at least reinstate an assault weapons ban. The polling over the past month suggests if we go hard on personal responsibility, on a handgun being defense enough, and we’re not coming for ranchers at all, then we can focus on the biggest threat first.”

Cat gets up from her desk and begins to pace. “This is the legislation every Democratic president should be falling over themselves to pass. How soon can we see leadership on the Hill about a draft?”

“You don’t want to… I mean, Hank or Lucy... “

“Winslow, nobody knows better than those two that civilians don’t need access to the weapons of war. You make time with them today, walk them through it. We’ll see the Majority Leader as soon as I get back, make that happen.”

“Uh, Lucy is coming on your trip, so…” Winn, who can puzzle out the mysteries of the universe, is so frequently thrown by small logistics, usually when they involve talking to beautiful and capable women. This week at least, Cat can’t entirely blame him. 

“Then speak to her first, get her input, and then the work is left for you and Mr. Henshaw. James might want in on this, you know he has a personal stake in getting guns off the streets.”

“Sometimes I think he’s going to go out there and start taking them himself,” Winn agrees. “Probably best I don’t mention that, right?”

“Not unless you want a vigilante on your hands, no. Thank you, Mr. Schott. You’ve done a good thing.”

“Oh, not for nothing?” Winn is almost out of the door when he turns back. “But the other area we could throw capital at, if this doesn’t work out? The environment. There are some congresspeople and senators right now in states that want a piece of the solar action, even if they don’t think the world is gonna drown.”

“You don’t have to believe in the science to want a cut,” Cat sighs, refusing to think what this might mean for her deal with Kara. “That’s good to know, but I want the guns. I want you giving 100% on this, everyone has to. We might never get another chance.”

“Yes, Madam President.”

When he leaves, her first instinct is to text Kara, of all people. Secure line or not, discussing policy would be reckless beyond measure. Cat is saved from her own worst impulses by Hank knocking on the door that separates their offices. 

“Ah, Hank. You’re going to be getting a visit from Winn Schott very soon. I believe our resident numbers geek has a plan.”

***

Kara picks her head off the fancy tablecloth only when Lena nudges her screwdriver a little closer. 

“I don’t know how you can sully vodka with all that juice,” she complains, but Kara downs the drink in two hearty gulps. 

“You know I don’t like the taste of alcohol. But after your mother, there’s no way I’m facing the rest of the day sober.”

“That well, huh?”

“You’re sure you put in a good word for me? She seemed extra savage about turning down my proposal.”

Lena swirls the vodka in her glass, ice clinking. “Well, you know how she is about me. Sometimes I’m the shining light of the Luthor line. Other days… well, I’m her burden and shame. Sorry, if that worked against you.”

Kara reaches across the table to pat Lena’s hand. “No, hey, I wasn’t blaming you. I know how she can be. I just got a little shell-shocked. I think I’ve been having it all my own way in Washington so far. Except with Senator Lord.”

“Oh, Max and mom go way back. So that’s to be expected. But tell me more, what exactly have you been _having_?”

Kara glances around. They’re at the most private table in one of Metropolis’s most exclusive restaurants, and the waiters know Lena well enough to approach only when summoned. No one has any reason to be eavesdropping anyway, so Kara decides she has to be safe.

“Now, I know it goes without saying but this is off the record, top secret, codeword clearance level gossip, okay?”

“It’s certainly making you smile.” Lena has that wistful look back in place, the one that makes Kara feel so guilty.

“We can skip it, I’ll save my giddiness for Alex, I swear.”

“No,” Lena says. “You’re the best friend I have, Kara. Let me be there for you. So… spill. Are you dating the President or what?”

“Well, that’s an interesting question…”

***

Sometimes, Cat wished that the handsome men in suits who littered her days didn’t remind her quite so much of her late husband. President Peña Nieto, with his dark eyes and neatly-coiffed hair, carries himself in the same way Robert always did. The talks are straightforward, once she apologizes for the campaign nonsense her opponent spouted about walls and criminality. An embarrassment to all of them, but easily dismissed. Instead they make meaningful progress on trade talks, and more efficient border policing that allows safe passage in both directions.

They part for the evening on the best of terms, Cat looking forward to visiting Cancún for the North American Leaders’ Summit in a few months. She has always enjoyed traveling. 

Staying overnight is an intermittent luxury, especially when she has the staff kicked out of her suite by ten. Running a bath she looks out over the dazzling lights of Mexico City, awestruck by the sheer scale of it all. America has its own bustling cities, dramatic landscapes, but nothing on this scale. It’s hard not to wonder what it would be like to govern in another country, one so close and yet so different politically and even culturally. 

The temptation to take her tablet into the bathroom is overwhelming, or even her phone to call a certain someone, but Cat is honestly too intoxicated by the privacy. Having already called Carter to bid him goodnight, she’s as close to being free as she gets. Sinking beneath the bubbles, she lets her brain run in neutral for a while, fragments of Spanish mixing with gun statistics and trade figures, until it all gets quiet and there’s just the gentle lapping of the water with each slight movement.

Peace is the most elusive thing in her presidency, and Cat smiles at this unexpected moment of it. She can’t wait to tell Kara about it on Thursday.

***

Kara opens the door to frantic knocking on Thursday morning, still in pajamas and with her hair thoroughly mussed from a late and restless night. It isn’t even light yet. Expecting Alex, Kara is startled to see Astra instead, wrapped up in a black trench coat and wielding her umbrella like a weapon against the press.

“Let me in.” Astra commands, and Kara listens, slamming the door shut behind them both once they’re safely inside. 

“What the-”

“Before you lose the rest of your mind, put the news on.” 

“Because _that_ ever calmed anyone down?” Kara flips the television on to its default C-SPAN, grabbing the remote to get CNN instead. At the same time she checks her phone to see a frightening number of notifications.

“Astra? What’s happening?” Kara sees her own face pop up on screen. It’s a shot from the State Dinner, one where she’s smiling at least. That dress really does come up great on camera, Kara can’t quite believe she’s the one wearing it. 

The headline on screen fills in the rest of the morning’s mystery.

PRESIDENTIAL PARTNER?

Kara slaps a hand over her open mouth. No, no, this is too soon. She was so careful, there’s no way that anyone could have spotted their last date, or even known about the others. Her mind is reeling with potential slips, with conspiracy theories about the restaurant in Metropolis being bugged, but the footage cuts to a live shot of the White House and she freezes.

No, of course Cat isn’t giving a response before 7am. It’s just standard ‘we’re watching you’ tactics from the media, but Kara feels a pang all the same as she picks out the part of the building that comprises the residence. 

“Does this mean our bill is sunk?” Astra asks, deadly calm. “Because if I’m going to fire you, I’d like to pretend I did it before the news broke.”

“Fire me? What? No, we’re still right on track. I’ve got all the usual Dems on board, and while some Republicans will never come around, I’ve got high hopes for the Sun Belt. My strategy is solid, Astra. No matter who I’m dating.”

“Still, with the backlash--”

“We don’t know there’s going to be one!” Kara is aware of how hopelessly naive she sounds. “We don’t know that Cat won’t cut me off today and call this all a trumped up lie meant to hurt her campaign for reelection. We don’t...”

Kara doesn’t know why she’s crying, but the tears fall anyway. Suddenly Astra her boss is replaced with Astra her aunt, the living image of Kara’s lost mother, and she finds herself caught up in a hug.

“Oh Kara, these feelings of yours. You couldn’t have left them out of it one time?”

Despite herself, Kara laughs a little. “If I could, I wouldn’t be effective. You know I win because I want it more.”

“That’s what causes all the trouble, little one.” Astra hasn’t used that pet name for her in over a decade. “I’ll manage Myriad, and whatever press comes our way. But I need you out of the office today. Stick to places the press can’t roam freely, hmm?”

“Should I call her?” Kara asks. “Is there any kind of protocol for something like this?”

“I would say she’ll reach out, if she’s going to. Don’t be the girl who shows up to knock on a locked door. We’re better than that, hmm?”

“I have some meetings on the Hill. If I time it right, I can be in offices all day and out of reach of the press.”

“That’s my girl. Now come along, get dressed, preferably to kill. Even you, in all your pastels, must have a killer little black dress somewhere to ride out this storm in. Something to intimidate, but maybe also show off what good taste the president has, if it comes to that.”

“Careful, aunt. I might think you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Someone should. Alex will be here any minute, you know that?” A pounding at the front door proves Astra’s point. “Go, get ready. I’ll talk her off the ledge and get some coffee going.”

“Thank you,” Kara says, more sincere than she can remember being in quite some time, before disappearing back into her bedroom to get dressed.


	11. Chapter 11

They’re waiting in a goddamn line when she opens the door to the steward bringing breakfast. Cat holds up one finger in warning and they all fall back, save for Lucy. She’s already abreast of the worst of the headlines, she doesn’t need a multi-headed freakout before she even gets to her caffeine.

“The rest of you have work to do, maybe twice as much as usual. Ms Lane, why don’t you join me for breakfast before your head explodes?”

At Lucy’s nod, James and Winn take off for the stairs at a decidedly brisk pace. Kelly and Derek trot after them. Only Siobhan hesitates a moment. “Is there anything-”

“I’ll call down,” Cat promises. “If I can ask one thing this morning, it’s that we not appear to be in crisis mode. Take care of that for me?”

Siobhan’s acknowledging smile is a little bloodthirsty, but Cat has bigger problems this morning. She tortures Lucy a little by pouring two cups of coffee in silence, and buttering a slice of toast with unnecessary precision.

“So,” Cat finally says, taking a small bite and chewing carefully. “Something up?”

“Madam President, the press-”

“Know about Kara. I’m aware. We all know secrets don’t last in Washington. Did I hope for a few months or so in private? Well, I can’t deny I did. This town doesn’t seem to bend to my will the same way as National City did.”

“Which means-”

“That we need a strategy. You and James have already devised, let’s see… two? different plans. One where we Kate Middleton her into acceptability, push everything onto a backburner and make it more chaste than a Jane Austen novel until the public dies of boredom. I suspect that’s more James than you, because that’s a big risk, with the whole girl-on-girl aspect.”

Lucy sighs, dropping her shoulders. She hates to be outmatched. Cat knows her cues, and she carries on while she has a head of steam.

“Leaving us with the classic Washington defense: deny, obfuscate, throw a little shade on someone else, until it all goes away.”

“You can see why I’d like it.” Lucy grabs some fruit from the bowl, biting into an apple with more force than necessary. “So you also know what that would involve.”

“It would bring an end to dating Kara, clandestinely or not. Something of a record for me, to not even make it to a fifth date. But easiest all round, I agree. We send her away quietly, by the time she’s back on the scene to see her environmental bill dies on the floor, even the tabloids will have stopped spinning rumors.”

“You… you agree?” Lucy looks so hopeful, those green eyes widening even as her fingers still fuss with the hem of her immaculate cream blazer. 

“Ah.” Cat can’t help savoring the misapprehension. Not conducting this elaborate back and forth means focusing on reality, and she is in no mood to do that. “I agree that it’s easy. I don’t agree we should actually do it.”

Lucy slumps back against the couch, momentarily defeated. She’ll be back to herself in a moment, so Cat lets the rejection play out. 

“Then what, due respect, is your plan? Ma’am.” To tack it on as an afterthought is as defiant as Lucy Lane gets, and Cat absorbs the gesture with no more than a raised eyebrow.

“My plan is to keep dating Kara, until such point as we agree to stop, or until it becomes sufficiently serious that I feel the need to inform the public of my intentions. You understand I’m talking only about serious enough to change the composition of the First family, or anything requiring security clearances?”

“Yes, Madam President.”

Lucy stands, still a little punchdrunk. Still, Cat has every faith that the staff will be brought swiftly into line, with Hank watching on quietly. Their management structure has always been effective, and Cat sees no need to mess with it now. 

“As a friend, not as my Deputy CoS, I might as well tell you that I’m seeing Kara tonight. It was going to be a closed doors kind of date, but given the storm I think we should venture out into DC. I’ll have my agents make the necessary arrangements.”

“You never did run from a fight,” Lucy admits. “But… is she really worth all this? You have to know the Republicans will seize on this and then…”

Cat considers what to admit. The minimum seems safest. “She is. Worth it, I mean. I can only hope I am in return.”

“Nice.” Lucy smirks. “Which Austen did you steal that from? Because Cat Grant’s ego knows well and truly that she’s worth it.”

“Mmm.” Cat pretends to consider. “You may have a point. Where’s good for dessert these days?”

“I’ll leave a list with Siobhan,” Lucy says. “You have the Saudi ambassador in an hour.”

“Good. Have Winslow sit in on that.”

“Yes ma’am. One last thing: how’s Kara coping? Is there anything we can do from here to help?”

“Coping?” Cat busies herself with finishing off breakfast. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“You haven’t called?”

“Well I’m going to, obviously. About the change of plans and all.”

“Ma’am, I would make that a priority one item. If you don’t mind my saying.”

Cat rolls her eyes. Kara is one tough cookie, despite those sunny smiles. All the same, she reaches for her phone the moment Lucy leaves. 

***

Kara has paced laps around her living room by the time the call finally comes. It takes tremendous willpower not to answer right in the middle of the first ring, but she doesn’t want to seem entirely desperate. 

“Hey,” she answers and it only sounds a little strangled. “Quiet morning?” If she can’t joke now, when can she?

“Kara.” The simple fact of Cat saying her name steadies Kara in a way nothing else has so far. “I’m sorry it took me so long to call.”

“Oh, it’s still early.”

“Don’t make excuses for me,” Cat says. “And if those pigs on your doorstep so much as chip your paintwork, you tell me.”

“They’re behaving so far. I can handle myself through a press gaggle.”

“No, no. They’re not the press. These are jackals, out for one thing, and they don’t care who gets hurt in the process.”

“They have to make a living, I guess…”

“Kara, I called to make sure we’re still on for this evening, and suggest that, instead of you coming here as planned, you meet me at the Four Seasons.”

“Okay, did you not actually _watch_ the news, or…?”

“They’re speculating that I’m dating a beautiful, younger lobbyist. Name of Kara Danvers, just nuts about trees and clean water. I could deny all charges, I suppose. But I think I’d rather confirm--without confirming--that I am in fact, just that lucky. But only if you can handle it. No doubt there’ll be more screaming hordes of paparazzi. I had Siobhan secure us a private dining room…”

“At the Four Seasons? Just like that? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Bourbon Steak is way near the top of my restaurant bucket list here, but... “

“Penny just dropped about the upsides of dating the President?” Cat asks, all faux innocence. “I can’t wait to tell you who got bumped for us.”

“You’re not going to tell me now?” 

“A girl gets to have a little mystery,” is all Cat will say. “Does that mean I can expect you tonight? Just tell the hostess that you’re there for the federalist dinner, and my agents will take it from there.”

“It’s impressive.” Kara hesitates, but she has to blurt it out. “I thought, maybe, you were calling to break up with me. God, I haven’t even asked how Carter is taking it.”

“It’s very new, this public scrutiny. But I won’t be making any official statements. My private life is off-limits until such time as, well… that’s a long way down the line. And Carter is still with his grandparents. Out in the country with spotty wifi and no computer. He’ll be fine, but he’s my next call. I always like to prepare him, where I can.”

“Of course.” Kara considers her options, like she’s really going to pick anything but Cat. “Then I guess I’ll see you for dinner. Reservation at 8?”

“8.30. I have a thing with the Michigan caucus and… well, I’ll make sure to leave on time, at least.” Cat sounds frazzled at the thought. Kara can’t wait to make her smile and forget all about it. For a moment there are no headlines, no waiting press, just the soft sound of Cat’s breathing over the phone line. Then Kara’s call waiting beeps and she sees her sister calling. Better deal with that before there’s an Alex shaped hole in the wall. 

“I’ll see you then,” Kara promises. “And if anything changes, don’t worry about it, okay? I know how the job is. I won’t take it personally.”

“Don’t be too understanding. You deserve to be treated right, Kara. Something I’ll no doubt forget at various points. But yes, I’ll see you then.”

The call clicks off and Kara stabs at the answer button before Alex lets her panic out on voicemail. It’s going to be a very, very long day.

***

“You really don’t need to drive right up there,” Kara says for the third time as they idle at a red light. “I mean, it’s a bit high school, having my big sister drop me at the door.”

“Drop you at valet parking, actually. I’m coming in because-”

“Alex! You are _not_ coming in with me. There are codewords and Secret Service. You being there is unexpected, and these people don’t do unexpected.” 

“Kara, I’m an FBI agent-”

“Justice, not Treasury. So please just drop me over there and I will call you tomorrow. Besides, if anything really juicy happens, you’ll see it online before I can even text.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Alex warns, pulling into the hotel parking. “I don’t care what her job title is, nobody messes with my little sister. And those photo punks definitely don’t get a chance to. You look really good, by the way. Any chance I can steal that dress for the fundraiser next week? I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

“Get your own,” Kara says, jumping out of the car the second it stops. “Seriously, go have your evening. I’ll call if anything gets weird.”

“You’d better.” And then Alex is tearing off into the Washington evening, leaving Kara to make her grand entrance. There’s not much of anyone around, and she wonders if that means the Secret Service have already done most of their job. The flags overhead snap in the stiff breeze as she tries not to jog toward the front doors. Maybe she’s imagining that the doorman looks at her a little too long as she passes. Kara always has had one of those faces, after all.

Or maybe it’s the dress. There’s no way Alex will borrow it, the cornflower blue with one bold cream stripe down it is way too light for her sister’s taste. Only now Kara can’t help wondering if it’s too eye-catching, even toned down with a creamy pashmina over her shoulders. She feels Princess-Grace-pretty in it, though, and given the occasion and the lack of hiding from today onward, maybe this is the perfect dress after all. It certainly gets an approving smile from the dark-haired hostess who greets Kara at the entrance to the Bourbon Steak restaurant.

“I’m, uh.” Kara clears her throat. “I’m here for the federalist party.”

The other woman just stares at her.

“No, wait! I mean the federalist dinner. Sorry. Dinner.” The smell of fine steak grilling is beginning to reach Kara, and her stomach grumbles in anticipation. A moment later she gets a beaming smile from the hostess. Her nametag says Cathy, but Kara has a suspicion both the uniform and the nametag are being borrowed by a Secret Service agent. As ‘Cathy’ leads Kara around the edge of the busy restaurant towards the private dining rooms, there’s a discreet bump in the lines of her plain black outfit, both at hip and at her ankle. Definitely an agent. 

As they walk, Kara spots another few in clever locations. Corners that offer panoramic views, or partially-hidden by plants or art installations. It’s mind-boggling how safe Cat must be kept at all times, but damn if Kara isn’t grateful for them. 

Knocking on the door is some kind of code, and it’s Sam who answers with the briefest of smiles. 

“Ms Danvers, please. The president’s ETA is minus three minutes. Have a seat.”

And oh, the room is amazing. Another agent waits by the window, and Kara detours to take in the view as the door closes behind her. Rock Creek Park is one of her favorite places in DC, so even if she got bored of gazing at Cat (surely impossible) at least there’s something else to look at. 

Kara can feel Sam watching her, and so she takes a seat as originally instructed. The agents both touch their earpieces simultaneously, and Kara’s stomach does a little flip.

“How many?” Sam asks, talking into her sleeve mic. “Negative, keep them there. We have an alternative route.”

Moments later, the door opens and Cat comes charging in, quick even on four-inch heels. The agents with her hang back, and Sam motions for the one remaining agent to join them. 

“Madam President, we’ll be on perimeter only unless anything changes. Good job dodging the paps on the way in.”

“You can see them from a mile away.” Cat dismisses the concern with a wave of her hand, and take the seat opposite Kara. Her hair is partly pinned, much like the state dinner, and Kara feels a fresh urge to trace the shell of Cat’s ear with a fingertip. She’s self-conscious that they stick out, but like most things about her date, Kara finds them dangerously charming.

“Hey,” Kara says when they’re finally alone. Surely it can’t be long before a waiter interrupts. “I’m really glad we’re doing this.” She reaches across the table and Cat’s hand meets her own halfway. 

“With a bit more notice, I could have cleared out somewhere _really_ nice,” Cat says, eyes sparkling. “But they know me here, and the agents feel comfortable with it. That dress is gorgeous on you, I could almost hate you. Carolina?”

“You have a good eye, Madam President.”

“Not ‘MP’?”

“That’s just for texts.” Kara smiles at how easy it is. Neither of them flinch as the world’s most nervous waiter is shown in by Sam. “And you don’t look too bad yourself.” It’s an understatement. The metallic knit dress shimmers under the warm lighting, making the silvery threads glow like a constellation, drawing Kara’s attention to every subtle curve. It’s hard not to wonder what it might look like on the floor of Cat’s bedroom later.

Kara pours herself water and swallows, quickly. Cat ponders the merits of one bottle of red over another, and Kara nods at whichever one she ends up suggesting. 

Then they’re alone again, and Kara forces herself to actually read the menu. She can feel Cat’s attention on her the whole time, and she smiles at the fact. There’s a pleasant tension in the air, the anticipation of a first date without the pressure of getting to what comes next. That part, they’re already very good at.

“What are you thinking?” Cat breaks the companionable silence. She probably means about food choices, but Kara blurts out what’s on her mind.

“That it’s a shame I can’t take you home tonight. I’d really like to show you my place, now I’m settling in.”

“That’s what you want out of tonight? My opinion on your drapes?”

“I’m just saying, it’s a nice place.”

“Well, it’s something we can look at in the future. If you’d like. With… regular arrangements, the Service can work wonders. It’s short notice and the unknown that makes Sam and her guys crazy.”

“Cat?” They’re interrupted by their wine, and the rushed business of ordering. Anything to be alone again.

“Yes?” 

“Are you asking me to go steady, or something?” 

Cat stands, leaning across the table to kiss Kara, a little hum of contentment when they part again. “I’d like more evenings like this, yes. Maybe even the odd Sunday morning in bed, arguing over who gets the Culture section first.”

“Ah, see I always start with Sports,” Kara says. “Can’t digest my Froot Loops until I find out how the sportsball games turned out.”

“Then clearly, it’s meant to be.” Cat blushes for just a second as she says it, taking her time to unfold her napkin over her lap, smoothing it out for longer than needed. “So,” she adds, taking a sip of her wine. “Tell me about your day.”

***

The evening is flawless until they try to leave. The food has been excellent, a second bottle of wine all but polished off. Cat just about remembers to knock on the door before they step out, but her attempt to link her arm with Kara’s is swiftly blocked by Sam.

“Ma’am, we’ve got an increased presence. We had the original pool contained, but it seems word of your date blew up on Twitter.”

“So how do we get clear?” Cat knows she’s snapping, can feel Kara tensing beside her. “Dammit, I can’t have one meal?”

“We’re just going to go quick,” Sam says. “Can you both keep up with a jog in those heels?” Cat stares her down. “Vigilance is on the move.”

The agents form that running phalanx Cat is so used to, propelling her along much faster than she would ever jog. Kara is clearly caught off guard, judging by the gasped ‘oh’ coming from behind her, but Cat doesn’t get a chance to look properly until they’re past the flashing cameras and being bundled into the limo. 

“Holy…” Kara gasps as the car speeds away from the curb. “Is that how you leave parties, too?”

“They’re good,” Cat says, proud of her agents. “Handy for escaping my mother too, when I’m forced to visit. You okay?”

Kara glances at the agent sitting in front of them, even though his back is turned. “Oh, a little… you know…”

And then Cat is kissing her, because who the hell needs privacy anyway? Kara is trembling, almost exactly the way she does right before she comes, and that only makes Cat greedy for more. But for the agents, she wouldn’t stop at running her hands over the bodice of Kara’s dress.

Breathless by the time they come to a screeching halt, Kara is the one to right them and almost pull Cat free of the car. The agents diminish yard by yard until they’re safely in the Residence, all staff safely on the other side of one door or another. That’s when Cat really gets to pounce, pressing Kara against the wall outside the master bedroom, too impatient for the final few feet. 

Reduced to desperate sounds that catch in her throat, Kara comes with her palm slapping the plaster that’s probably a historical artefact in its own right, and the leader of the free world on her knees between Kara’s parted legs.

“God,” she gasps as Cat pulls herself back up to standing. “I thought I was going to die if you didn’t touch me just then.”

“Plenty of time for more,” Cat assures her, leading them through the last set of doors to her bedroom suite. “But it looks like, Twitter aside, dating is a feasible option after all. No flaming pitchforks on the lawn, no frantic staffers lying in wait.”

“Did you want to check-”

“No, no,” Cat interrupts. “Whatever coverage there is can wait ‘til morning. And as beautiful as you are in that dress, I want you out of it. Chop, chop, Ms Danvers.”

“Hmm,” Kara considers for a second, before advancing on Cat while she removes her earrings. “I think I’d rather get you out of yours first.”

They’re both laughing as Kara lowers the zipper, inch by torturous inch. Maybe the world really can wait until morning.


	12. Chapter 12

“Due respect, Madam President, but before we get to the day’s agenda, we need to address the coverage on you and, uh… Kara? Ms Danvers? Do we have a consensus on what staff should call her?” Lucy asks.

“Staff should call Ms Danvers by whatever name she instructs them to,” Hank answers for Cat, something he usually knows better than to do. “For internal use only, she now has the Secret Service name ‘Sunshine’.” Cat can’t help smirking. At least her own is a little more dignified. 

“Ma’am, you said two weeks ago when this first broke that my official position in the press room should be ‘no comment’ on anything to do with your private life,”James says next. Cat peers at him over her reading glasses, finally looking up from the draft of her speech to the AFL-CIO. 

“And?”

“They’re getting restless, is all. I can’t get them to write about anything else, or even ask me about it. All they want to know is who you’re dating, why you’re dating, and what we all know about your dating life.”

“And what _do_ you know, Mr. Olsen?” Sugary sweet, but they know the tone by now. James holds his hands up in temporary defeat, but he’s as tenacious as Lucy.

“I know enough to know I don’t need details,” he finishes. “There is some positive coverage out there. Most of the liberal outlets are celebrating, though a couple are coming at you on the left for being ‘closeted’ all this time. Even though-”

“Yes,” Cat interrupts. “Even though.” As usual, bisexuality even when freely admitted, had been overlooked by all but her most virulent enemies, who naturally upgraded that to ‘lesbian witch’. 

“Weirdly,” Winn is up next. “You’re actually getting a weird kind of support on the right. Women saying they’d rather take their best friend to dinner, or to the movies, than some oaf they just met on a first date. Sort of a…”

“Refusing to see the date for the gal pal of it all.” Cat sighs. She really is too old for this. Not to mention only seeing Kara twice since their big dinner date. Once for an overnight, but the second an all-too-brief lunch in the Capitol building, shamelessly borrowing the Minority Leader’s office for mediocre salads and sparkling water. “They’ve been pulling that crap since day one.”

“In real news,” Hank steers them out of choppy waters. “The FBI director will be here within the hour. There’s a credible threat to Opal City, and he wants to take you through the options.”

“Opal? You’re sure he didn’t mean National?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then let’s wrap this up. If Director Carr has found Opal City on a map, then it must be important. Hold the line on ‘no comment’, James. They’ll give up eventually.”

If looks could form a chorus, the Senior Staff are united in their disbelief. Even Hank looks less stoic than usual. Cat feels a stab of guilt, knowing they’ve been hounded on their way to work, on the limited hours they take away from this place at weekends. Perils of the job, she reminds herself. They all knew what they were signing up for. 

Besides, she’s disappointed at them all for shielding her quite so effectively. To listen to her liberal lefty meeting attendees, there isn’t a homophobe left in America. Her own brief forays online have already proven otherwise, and she’s had more than one stern talk with Carter about not going looking for articles. Luckily, most of his life spent in politics means he’s the least gossip-curious teenager in America, but the urge to protect his mom runs deep. 

Siobhan knocks with her usual impatient rap, then pops her head around the door. 

“Director Carr is here, Madam President.”

“Send him in.”

***

Kara drags her feet on the way into the fundraising lunch for Congresswoman Morzz, paying attention to her phone screen until the last possible second, when she turns on her brightest smile and is gladly led inside the ‘borrowed’ townhouse. She’ll shake hands with the Congresswoman, maybe even risk a familiar _Meghan_ despite the company around them. They did good work together in Metropolis, and Kara has to hope that will count for something.

She should have gone easier on the fundraising breakfast for Congresswoman Wyatt at Johnny’s Half Shell. Breakfast events are the worst for Kara, who loves breakfast pastries more than anyone really should. Not to mention the evening event still to come with Senator Crane at Sonoma. Even with her appetite, Kara is getting a little tired of all the food.

Wait, are those Alaskan crab puffs? Maybe she’s not quite done yet. 

“Congresswoman.” She greets Meghan with not-quite-a-mouthful.

“Ah, Kara Danvers. Always to be found where the food is. One day you’re going to have to tell me how you put all that away and stay so slim.”

Kara shrugs, blushing a little as she always does when the subject comes up.

“Tell me,” Meghan pulls her aside gently, just enough to make their conversation private. “Burning off those calories with a certain someone? Because _no comment_ my ass, Kara. There’s twice the cameras any of my lunches usually get, and Andrea Wyatt told me the same about hers this morning.”

“Meghan-”

“Just tell me you’re not in over your head. I know we clashed at first, but I know what you can do, Kara. You’ve kept me in office, and you’ve worked wonders for children and families all over this country. You might be the one decent person ever to work as a lobbyist, and I don’t want to see you throwing that away.”

“Oh come on, there are plenty of decent people in this game. I just… people assume things about me. But I can fight dirty if I need to. Do I need to, on my environmental bill?”

“You know I’m an easy sell,” Meghan says. “Even if I didn’t owe you big time, or Myriad wasn’t paying for all this crap today, it would still be the right thing to do. Question is, will the girlfriend come through if we actually get the bill on her desk? Her veto would be a death knell for environmental legislation for a decade. She knows that, right?”

“She’s not my…” Kara trails off. That isn’t strictly true anymore. They’re _dating_ , even if it hasn’t been made official outside of their conversations and telling immediate family. The logic for not confirming is sound, and Cat has explained it to death. Still, a little part of Kara feels slighted. Something slightly shameful about them that has to be kept from the public eye. She shouldn’t expect anything less, dating the freaking president, but the heart is funny that way.

“I hear Lord makes it official-official today,” Meghan continues, steering Kara towards a sitting room where a large television has been wheeled in on a trolley. Some intern fusses with cables, and then they’re watching MSNBC, which doesn’t appear to be anyone’s first choice of coverage, judging by the grumbles around the room. 

Sure enough, there’s the podium, multiple flags whipping in the breeze behind it. Plenty of stars, plenty of stripes. Kara’s rarely felt so unpatriotic. She snags a glass of something bubbly from a passing server, breaking her own no-booze-before-dinner rule, and watches as Senator Lord takes the stage to what _has_ to be a partly paid for crowd. No way he whipped up that much enthusiasm on a weekday afternoon, even if he is back in National City. 

“My fellow Americans,” he begins, leaning into the mic like some low-budget Kennedy impersonator. “Thank you for being here in National City on this historic day. This is the city where I made my home, after losing my parents. This is the place I built my company, and created products and ideas that, forgive me being immodest, have changed the world.”

A smattering of applause. 

“And you all know how I feel about Washington, about big government. I went there to drain the swamp, and you all see that I’ve been doing that as Senator.”

The applause picks up. Kara snorts, wondering if some of it is a click-track.

“But what troubles me now is the lack of leadership in this great nation. President Grant has been a colleague of mine, I admit that freely. She’s been an adversary of mine just as often. I was a great fan of her late husband, Robert. I was proud to call him a friend. Like the rest of the nation, I stood back and admired Cat for carrying as Governor, and with her plan to run without him at her side.”

Kara scrunches her nose. He shouldn’t be referring to Cat on first-name terms. It’s a respect thing, especially in a speech of public record. 

“Only now we see our president really is like all the other politicians who’ve held that office. Just like all the other Democrats who think morals are negotiable.”

“Libertarian asshole,” Meghan says, under her breath. Kara bumps her shoulder in quiet solidarity. 

“On your tax dollars and mine, the president is having some fun. Playing the field even. Bringing _a woman_ into the White House and sharing god knows what information with her. Even better? That woman is a lobbyist. The most powerful woman in the world is--allegedly--leaving herself open to a political agenda that more than half of the country might not even have voted for. Is that how democracy is supposed to work?”

The silence creaks under the weight of everyone in the room trying not to look at Kara. She takes one quiet step back, then another. Strategic retreat, it’s time. She downs the rest of her glass and bolts for the front door.

***

Cat wishes she’d stuck to the no television rule in her private office. There are days, particularly when trying to formulate new policy from the hundreds of options the staff have presented, when the Oval is too empty and too open to work from. Instead she works from the comfortable little office between hers and Hank’s. 

Max continues to drone on, his sad little crowd louder than they should be. It’s only when he comes after Kara that Cat sees his game, and she sits up straight in her chair, policy forgotten. How dare he speak about Kara that way? He doesn’t even have the decency to name her, in all his accusations. Just Mata Hari with a fetish for saving the polar ice caps. What a hatchet job.

“Is that how democracy is supposed to work?” He asks, and Cat wants to throw a shoe at him. “I don’t think so. That’s why I’m announcing my candidacy for President of the United States. I won’t be dating, or leaving parents across the country with awkward explaining to do.”

“Go to hell,” Hank mutters from his door, not bothering to knock for once. 

“I think we were all too polite to ask first time around, but this time I’m asking loud and clear: what kind of woman is Cat Grant? Her ivory tower tactics might have worked at Yale, and that little company she built for herself-”

“I went to Radcliffe, you asshole!” Cat can’t hold back her temper a moment longer. 

“Not to mention that little company sold for the best part of a billion dollars when you divested,” Hank adds. “He’ll wipe out in the primaries. People who don’t stand for anything tend to fall the fastest. Let’s see if he can stick the landing.”

Max is getting all wound up now. “Does our President have the moral character to do this job? If you think the answer is ‘no’, then you’re going to have a great alternative on the ballot come next November, ladies and gentlemen. 

“My name is Maxwell Lord, and I’m running for President.”

“No shit,” Cat sighs. “I don’t think we’re looking at a flash in the pan. The fact that he just opened season on me means even if he does, the next Republican will be singing from the same hymn sheet.”

“We could look at some language for a statement-”

“No.” Cat stands, the better to make her argument.

“It would mean leaning a little on Robert’s death, and I know you hate to do that. But playing up the loneliness, that this is a hard job requiring a little emotional support… women voters would eat that up. Working men would at least understand it.”

“I won’t. And don’t even say what you’re not saying, Mr Henshaw.” Cat stalks back towards the Oval, shoulders tensed. 

“You know what it is, though.” Hank sighs, looking up to the ceiling. “The fact that you’re both blonde, slim, attractive, well-dressed… it’s the kind of lesbian activity that-”

“Hank John Henshaw, did you just say _lesbian activity_ in the Oval Office? Is that really what we’ve come to?”

“I suppose we have, ma’am. It’s going to hit the networks later but Winn has the early numbers on this latest round of polling.”

Cat stands by the glass door that opens out onto the Portico. The gardens look peaceful. Why can’t she be out there? Why did she settle for such a dull gray pantsuit today? Even the deep blue camisole can’t revive it. Is it too early to call Kara? She’ll be making the rounds of fundraisers on a day like today. Siobhan will know whose. Mrs. Landingham has set up something that lets the other secretaries know what Kara is up to, somehow. Cat can’t help feeling grateful for it, and wondering when she might be granted access to the information.

“Did we hold at 63?”

“We did not, Madam President.” It’s clear from his tone which way the numbers went, but Cat can’t resist dragging it out of him.

“Surely not the first 100% approval rating in history?”

“We dropped 8 points. But we can get them back. There are strategies already in place. And if you go after the guns like Schott floated…”

“We’ll see,” Cat considers out loud. “No matter what the public say, the backlash is always horrible, not least from our friends on the hill. If I’m going after assault weapons--and we should work on the terminology there. It’s one thing for headlines, another to convince gun owners we know what we’re about.”

“It would give us focus,” Hank says. “I know we’ve been busy, but there have been some grumblings about… distraction.”

“Fire the first five people who mentioned that,” Cat snaps, before remembering the White House doesn’t function the way her tower of glass and steel did. “Okay, fine. But I want that language cracked down on at every turn. Kara is around for the foreseeable, and she is not for public consumption. Tell our bright political minds to make it work. Or I really will start firing people.”

“As you wish, Madam President.” Hank comes to stand beside her for a moment. “How’s Carter about it all? Is there anything else we can be doing for him?”

“He’s good. We talked, a lot. It helps that he likes Kara, certainly.”

“You raised a wonderful young man,” Hank agrees. “I’ll be in my office if you need me. Meeting to talk polls is at four.”

“Siobhan will get me there. Roosevelt room?”

Hank nods, before taking his leave. Lingering by the door, Cat opens it just a fraction for some fresh air. At the mere click of the handle, the nearest agent on the Portico comes trotting over.

“Something you needed, ma’am?”

“Agent… Donovan?” He nods with just a hint of a smile that she finally got it right. “I need your help making a plan, before I present it to your boss. You got five minutes and a pencil?”

“Ma’am? Aren’t you making a trip to Opal City tonight?”

“No, that’s been shelved as the situation is contained. What I have in mind is much more… local.”

“Agent Arias really prefers we bring all requests directly to her,” the fair-haired agent is visibly squirming despite his muscles and firearms. 

“Well, we are,” Cat points out, pulling a notebook from her pocket. “Giving her a feasible plan though, not just a half-formed idea. Now, if I wanted to visit a location around this address, minimal presence, as close to incognito as possible… how would I go about that?”

“In theory…” the young agent begins, and Cat tries very hard not to smile at her triumph.

***

Kara pushed her front door closed and kicked her heels off in relief. Rifling through her mail, she was relieved to see that none of the people who’d been emailing or writing to the office seemed to know her home address yet. All the same, a little jumpy, she checked each room in the apartment and left a light on in every space. 

As she surveyed the sad contents of her fridge, her heart skipped a beat at the sound of that familiar ringtone. Maybe it wasn’t too late to head for the White House, grab some street food en route if necessary.

“Am I glad to hear your voice,” Kara answers, without even giving Cat a chance to speak. “Or I will be, anyway. Hi.”

“Hear me?” Cat says. “Wouldn’t it be better to see me, too?”

“Sure, I can drive over. Just let me work out where to leave the car, since… actually I can Uber.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Cat continues. Kara is just picking up her keys when there’s a knock at the door. She really thought the photographers had all given up by now, preferring to catch her at work.

“Let me just get this, and then if you’re sending a car or…” Kara opens the door and two agents push past her with a polite ‘hello’ and begin searching the rooms of her apartment methodically. Two more stand in the doorway, shoulder to shoulder. It makes effective protection for the petite woman standing in front of their shared, black-suited mass.

Kara hangs up the phone. “Hi,” she says for a second time. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Clear!” The first agents call back. The appear from the bathroom and main bedroom respectively, unruffled. “We’ll have one on the front door, three on perimeter, ma’am.”

“Good, thank you.” Cat waves them toward the exit, giving them privacy again at last. She holds up a fancy tote bag. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t have much in to cook, so they sent me out prepared.”

“You’re a regular James Bond,” Kara teases, gathering Cat up in an easy embrace and kissing her. “But I saw Max Lord today,” she has to add when they part. “So that’s a conversation.”

“Not if we stick to the plan,” Cat groans. It’s clear this isn’t the first time she’s had this argument today, so Kara decides to let it go.

“Can you stay over?” She asks instead.

“No, but I’ve got a good four hours all being well. My official schedule still has me off to Opal for that disaster that never actually happened.”

“Well, thank you Opal City,” Kara says, setting the bag on her kitchen counter and taking Cat by the hand. “Not hungry yet, though.” She might never be again after all the toothpick food. “So let me give you the tour.”

“Start with the kitchen.” There’s something pleading in the way Cat says it, so Kara simply smiles and lifts her up on the immaculate marble counter. This time when she kisses Cat, tangling her fingers in those short blonde curls, Cat pulls Kara closer with her legs. 

“So, this is the kitchen,” Kara murmurs between kisses, her fingers already at work on the button of Cat’s gray tailored pants. And Kara might not be hungry for food just yet, but this is definitely a great place to eat. 


	13. Chapter 13

“Come on,” Kara sighs, pushing herself up from the pillows. Cat could pull her back down in an instant, but it’s more fun to see how this plays out. It’s a mystery how someone that talented with her tongue, someone who can mutter such filthy things in the heat of the moment, can be such an utter Girl Scout about timing and deadlines. “Your four hours… I don’t want the agents barging in here while we’re naked.”

“Kara, if they wanted to sneak a peek, they had ample opportunity while we were in the kitchen. Or on the sofa. Or the utility room. Besides, I was hoping you’d show me your shower before I left.”

“And you know how much I want to.” A hint of a whine as Kara leans down from sitting to kiss Cat again, one hand wandering to cup her bare breast. “But that leads to lateness and agents getting antsy, and I am _not_ pissing off the people we rely on to keep you safe.”

“You’re so thoughtful.” Cat finds it charming, god help her. She props herself up on her elbows. “But darling, part of being the big boss means they really do go when I tell them, unless there’s a sniper on the roof. So don’t feel bad if you want one more shot at, well, all this.” She gestures to her own naked form, the sheets rumpled around their feet. 

“We didn’t…” Kara kisses along her jaw, sliding back on top of Cat with leonine ease. “Talk, either.” Her neck, then. Haphazard, no pattern, but finding every sensitive spot with insistent lips, then the flicker of her tongue. “About the campaign.” The hollow of Cat’s collarbone, her kryptonite, swirled with that deft tongue and what the fuck are they even talking about when they could be doing this?

“Kara,” she gasps, as firm hands take hold of Cat’s hips, pulling her closer and into position. Her thighs part easily, and she’s tender from all they’ve done already, but damn if she isn’t desperate for Kara’s fingers or mouth on her again. 

And Kara knows how to be maddeningly careful, her touches featherlight as the heat grows between them again. The stroking of her fingers is deft enough to get traction despite how wet Cat is, but never too much for her oversensitized state. Kara has a virtuoso’s touch, and it’s flattering in its own right how intently she concentrates, how attuned she is to every minute response from Cat’s body. 

It’s the intensity of that attention that does for Cat in the end. Gripping Kara’s defined biceps, she comes with a sobbing series of moans that Kara kisses right from her lips. 

“Mmm,” Cat murmurs against Kara’s lips. “Okay, now you have to stop, or it’s going to count as an assassination attempt.”

“Don’t even kid about that!” Kara pulls back in alarm. “I think voters would be alarmed by your sense of humor, you know that?.”

“Yes, we have polling on it.”

“Do you? I’d pay good money to see those numbers.”

Cat brushes a strand of hair off Kara’s face, tucking it behind her ear. “They think I don’t know, but there’s also extensive polling on my ass. Oh, and my legs. What the voters think is my best feature.”

“That can’t be true.” Her outrage is adorable. 

“Think about it. Would you gather that data for leverage, if you needed it?”

“I-”

“Kara…”

“I try to play it clean, you know that, right? That there are ways to change hearts and minds that don’t involve blackmail and bribery? That I can really just care about my cause and do everything legal to advocate for it?”

“You make it easy to believe that, yes.” Cat stifles a sigh. They’re going to have to have a conversation about all this. It’s less than likely Kara will make her goal, meaning Cat will never have to come through. But something about Kara’s effortless confidence gives Cat pause.

“Cat?”

A kiss is easier than a conversation, so Cat makes sure it’s a good one. She also uses Kara’s distraction to start wriggling out of bed, leaving Kara to fall on the mattress with a happy sigh.

“God, I love you.”

Cat freezes mid-step. Kara slaps a hand over her mouth, much too late. 

“I should get going,” Cat says, grabbing for her underwear. The rest of her clothes are scattered throughout the apartment, but she can retrace her steps. “Don’t worry about it, Kara. Happens to the best of us.”

“I didn’t. I mean, I don’t mean that… oh God.” Kara pulls a pillow over her face. 

“I really do have to go.” Cat lingers in the doorway. Just long enough for Kara to gather herself to get out of bed and bound across the room to her.

“It really was an accident.”

“Consider it forgotten.” Cat strokes her cheek. “Now put something on and help me find my clothes, would you? Chop, chop.”

***

Cat knows in her gut that staying longer was risky. She has that heady feeling, the one she’s had since she was a child sneaking onto fairground rides her parents had expressly forbidden; the same ones that gave her nightmares for weeks even as she revelled in her own bravery. Reckless is a feeling she hasn’t been familiar with for some time, but her stomach does that telltale flip as they approach the front door. 

She raps on the inside of it and Agent Donovan moves to open it instantly. These men and women have the reflexes of hunters, and for that she’ll be eternally grateful. The rest of her limited detail falls into position as Kara leans against the doorframe. 

“Oh, they took out some of the streetlights. Smart.” Kara gestures out at the street. They can’t linger, open spaces like this have too many variables and the agents don’t like it. Cat has pushed her luck enough for one week.

Donovan nods in confirmation of Kara’s observation. They really are good at what they do. It’s what makes it so easy to forgive what happens next. 

Safe in the alcove around the front door, Cat turns to claim one last, meaningful kiss. She knows there’ll be a discreet clearing of the throat from someone, probably Sam who is the least happy about this little outing. But there’s no next date fixed, Cat has to take her chance.

Besides, after that whole non-confessing confession, they both need to know they’re on stable ground. 

Then she hears a ‘click’, and the world turns upside down.

***

Kara hears the sound a fraction too late, but the agents all react in a heartbeat. Two bodily lift Cat from the embrace and carry her at a run toward the waiting SUV, one in the middle of three. There are additional agents beyond the four that Kara saw in her home, and two of those are detaining the photographer, who’s clinging to his extra-long zoom lens like it’s a child he won’t be parted from. 

There don’t seem to be any other paparazzi around, and when Kara looks back to Cat, the last thing she sees of her is a gesture for Kara to go back inside.

Doing as she’s told, Kara leans against the inside of her closed door, letting her eyes close for just a moment. More car doors slamming, then the peal of tires screeching away, more or less in tandem. 

She doesn’t look to see if they left the paparazzo behind, if he still had the camera, or if any agent has stayed back to handle her. Kara locks and chains her door, unties her robe at the waist, and walks through to the bathroom where she sets the tub to filling, splashing in a decadent amount of the overpriced bubble bath some client or other got her for Christmas. 

Is this her fault? Cat has been so careful not to confirm, but Kara has admitted the relationship to more than one person already. Alex? She would never, that’s not even a question. Astra? That depends. They might be family, but Kara knows nothing gets in the way of a political trade-off if Astra needs something badly enough. Then there’s Lena. Sure, she’s off in Metropolis, but just one nodding confirmation here or there, it would be enough to put the press back on the trail at Kara’s house instead of staking out her office or the White House. 

No. This is no time to stop trusting people. Whatever happens, she can face it. Hadn’t she just told Cat she loved her, far too soon? Instead of panic or distance, Cat had responded with reassurance and gentle kisses. Not quite ‘I love you too’ but better than, say, a Han Solo ‘I know’. 

Facing this new shitstorm will be easier in the morning. Kara can see the sleepless hours stretching ahead, and there’s always work to fill that time. She wants to turn her phone off, so badly, but settles for do not disturb instead. If anyone is really persistent she’ll know, but the rest can just be angry red notifications that can’t bother her for now. 

While the tub fills, Kara fetches a glass of wine and a paperback from her nightstand that she doesn’t remember starting. A gory crime thriller, just the kind of distraction she needs tonight. 

She leaves the phone in reach beside the bath, just in case. By the time she’s finally done, clear of the water and drying off, it still hasn’t rung. 

“No news is good news,” she sighs to an empty apartment. If only she could make herself believe that.

***

The agents bundle her into the Residence, and Sam is the only one brave enough to hang back for the debrief.

“Ma’am-”

“It’s on me, Samantha. I was… taking my time. An indulgence that I’m going to have to pay for.”

“And if one of my agents has the memory card?”

Cat’s heart stutters for a second. Can she really be that lucky? “No. To protect Carter? Maybe. This… this I got into all by myself. And if I were still running a newspaper, I’d be leading the charge to sue us for that. Make sure he gets it back.”

“But Madam President, we have him in custody. He probably expects…”

“And if he’s working for Max Lord? Or the RNC? How long before they talking to the press about our bully tactics? No, I made my bed, Sam. I’ve got to lie in it. Whether I like it or not, there’s First Amendment. It doesn’t go away because exercising it has become inconvenient for me. And my love life.”

Agent Arias nods, standing a little straighter. Cat doesn’t deserve the respect, not tonight, not when a silent part of her is screaming to revoke that order and stick the damn memory card in the nearest microwave and set it to popcorn. 

“Mom?” Carter peeks out from the main door of the Residence. “I thought I heard you.”

“Carter, what are you doing up?”

“I was thirsty, but Mom, I need to warn you-”

“Kitty?” Cat blanches at the sound of her mother’s voice. Of all the no good, rotten times for Katherine Grant to put in a grudging appearance, of course she’s here just in time for the morning detonation of Cat’s presidency.

“Mother? You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“You can have my gun,” Sam whispers, offering Cat a smile before jogging back out to wherever she goes outside of protection hours. Unarmed, Cat walks the rest of the way in to face her fate. 

“I don’t need to tell you,” Kitty says with a sniff. “I have my agents to arrange it with the agents here. I am quite self-sufficient, and of course dear Siobhan is such a help.”

“Carter’s thirsty, aren’t you sweetheart?” Cat asks. “Can you wait here while we go down to the kitchens?”

“I don’t see why I can’t come along. There’s wine in this kitchen of yours?” The same sniffy tones.

“Well it’s the White House kitchen, so I imagine it’s pretty well stocked. If not, take it up with the taxpayers. It’s not like I do my own shopping.”

“No,” Katherine pauses to look at Cat’s slightly rumpled outfit. “That much I can tell from television. Who keeps putting you in gray, dear? It completely washes you out.”

By the time they reach the kitchen, Cat is one good shove away from putting her mother in the deep freeze. Better there than the Lincoln bedroom. 

***

Having soaked in the tub and knocked back more wine than is strictly sensible, Kara hits upon a plan. She’s going to text the three possible people who might have let something slip, and leave it open for them to confirm or deny. No accusations, no nasty calls of betrayal, just an open-ended question that anyone might ask.

Smart. Foolproof.

_Hey just a heads up, I might make the morning news. Or the overnight, on social media. It’s no big deal, I just can’t work out how the paparazzi got the idea to follow me again? They were giving up on my house at least, and then tonight they came back._

Alex replies first, with a promise of violence and injunctions against anyone who might have messed with her sister. Astra replies a few minutes later, telling her to be in early and email a full description of what happened. Business as usual. Ten minutes pass, fifteen. Kara stops looking at her phone after half an hour, telling herself Lena could be on a flight, in a late meeting, maybe dragged to the opera by her mother. Only even Wagner’s Ring Cycle would be over by now, probably, and that’s playing all three parts in a row. 

Opening her laptop, Kara types out the details for her boss and hits ‘send’. One more task off the to-do list.

***

“So, who’s this floozy of yours I keep seeing the press, Kitty?” Mother has a way of ruining even ice cream in a midnight feast, refusing even a scoop of plain vanilla in favor of the judging she flew down here to do in person.

“That is not up for debate, Mother.”

“Mom is everything okay? You looked upset when you got back.” Carter usually knows better than to discuss in front of his grandmother, but he inherited Cat’s incurable curiosity, and it bubbles over just as often as her own does. “Is she… is Kara okay?”

“She’s great,” Cat admits. “But there was an incident with the press when I was leaving. I didn’t see it coming, and I’m sorry, darling. It means things are going to be bumpy for a few days. Our privacy… I didn’t protect it like I should.”

“Well it’s about time,” Katherine chimes in. “The sooner that harlot of yours gets her fifteen minutes, the sooner she’ll be out of the picture. I just don’t understand why you’d give her this fuel for talk shows and a book deal. Haven’t I told you that this… preference of yours only causes trouble? You have a job to do, no matter how tawdry politics is. I still expected you to do it well.”

“Don’t. You. Dare.” Cat pulls away from her stool at Carter’s side and advances on her mother. “I have put up with your every insult for years. I’m still tolerating it now, as a woman who commands the greatest armed forces in the world. I let you take your cheap shots, mother, but you will not take them at Kara. She has done nothing wrong, and nothing to you. So tread very carefully.”

“You talk about her as though she means something,” Katherine scoffs. “The only time you talk back to me like this is over the boy here.”

“His name is Carter. You only have one grandson, is it really so hard to keep track?”

“I think I’ll have the steward show me to my room.” Katherine storms out like she owns the place. She probably thinks she does.

“Yikes,” Carter says around a mouthful of ice cream and chocolate syrup. “I knew it was bad if you were letting me have ice cream. Is Kara safe at her house?”

“I… didn’t think of that.” Cat groans at her own selfishness. “I’ll make sure she is, but she’s smart. Probably took off to a hotel, or a friend’s house. The agents were taking care of it though. There was no one there after I left.”

“You should call her. It’s late, but she probably wants to know what’s going on. I’d be freaking out in her place.”

“Well, if a certain son of mine ever goes to bed, I’ll think about it.” Cat folds her arms and nods toward the doors. “Come on, before the sugar high kicks in.”

“Night, mom.” Carter pauses to kiss her cheek, a little sticky. “Don’t mess it up.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Cat sighs, pulling her phone from her pocket. No messages, at least. She holds it in her hand all the way back upstairs, until she’s safe in the confines of her own bedroom.

***

Kara pretends she doesn’t scramble for the phone on the first ring. Do not disturb mode is long since switched off, mostly because she doesn’t believe the lack of social media alerts so far. What is taking that guy so long? Are they sitting on it to blackmail Cat? It’s not possible that she had the agents confiscate it, surely?

The relief on seeing Cat’s name is a tsunami, washing away all the other anxiety about things said and not done. 

“It’s late,” is how she answers, giving Cat every last opportunity to back out of the conversation.

“Are you at home?” Cat fires right back. “I didn’t think, do you need somewhere else to stay?”

“No, the attention left when you did.” Kara peeks out of the curtains to be sure. “Back at 1600?”

“Yes. To a surprise visit from my mother. This day goes from bad to… tragic.”

“It wasn’t all bad.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Kara hears the clink of ice in a glass, the soft rustle of furniture fabrics as Cat sits down. “So what should I expect?”

“It’ll break by morning, probably in the next couple of hours to make the early editions. The photographer was briefly detained for security reasons, but has since been released.”

“Your statement will read just like that, huh? Listen, just because it’s official-official now, doesn’t mean you have to do anything different. And if this is as far as we get, well… I’ll be disappointed, but I wouldn’t trade it.”

“For someone who allegedly loves me, you’re giving up very easily.” Cat has to be teasing, and yet Kara’s head spins. Saying it might have been an accident, but she’s already painfully sure of how she feels. This is no power crush, no multi-night fling for her. She’s in deep and prepared to get crushed by that. 

“I’ve told mac and cheese I love it in exactly the same tone. Some would say with more enthusiasm, too.”

“Well I’m not dueling with a box of Kraft over you.”

“Good. I’m not prepared to pick a side in that fight.” Kara smiles into the phone. This is why she’s already so sure. How could she not fall for someone like this? “Unless you have incentive in mind?”

“Well…” Cat goes so silent Kara fears the call may have disconnected. “What if… and there’s no legally binding whatever on this, it won’t get you an extra shot in your latte or let you skip the lines at Disney but… what if I think I’m falling in love with you, Kara Danvers?”

“Think?” Is all she can squeak in return.

“All right, what if I know it for sure?”

“Then you could have said something earlier, instead of leaving me hanging,” Kara points out, but the forgiveness is whole and instant. “Not to repeat myself but yes, I love you. I hope that’s okay?”

“I love you, too,” Cat says in turn, laughing softly around the words. “It’s more than okay. Tricky, but surely all the reason we need to keep going? Whatever happens tomorrow, or the day after that?”

“You’re worth it,” Kara replies. “But we’ve both had a late night and the morning is looming. Can we pick this up over a discussion about how great our profiles look in the photos?”

“Of course. Goodnight, Kara.” 

“Goodnight, Cat.”

Kara forces herself to go and lie down, whether sleep comes or not. She sticks her phone on its charger and stares up at the ceiling. Cat loves her. For once Kara isn’t the only one in too deep, so fast. She wants to mull every last detail, revel in every word, but all too quickly sleep is tugging at her from the darkness.

When she falls asleep, she’s pretty sure it’s with a smile on her face. 


	14. Chapter 14

Kara scrambles awake at six to the sound of something hitting her window. She bolts for the bathroom in a panic, any last hope the story might not blow up dissolving as she finishes waking up. 

There’s a commotion outside, a real crowd this time, and listening at the window she hears accents from all around the world in the waiting hordes of photographers and reporters. With cautious steps, she moves through the apartment to her front door. There are satellite trucks parked on the street, reporters with television cameras at the front of the throng. Through the peephole Kara recognizes reporters from CNN and Fox, no doubt their colleagues alongside represent the other networks too. 

What the hell is she supposed to do? Climb out of a window?

She’s picking out something to wear, when her phone pings to life again. With all alerts silenced except for her chosen contacts, Kara already knows who it is.

_Kara, I’ve seen the mess on the news. Sending L-Corp security to get you out of there in one piece. They’ll knock four times and the password you should ask for is ‘kale’._

Trust Lena to get a healthy eating reminder into saving Kara’s ass. Despite her reservations about whose fault this is, whether this is Lena’s way to assuage a guilty conscience or not, Kara is relieved that someone will have her back this morning. She briefly considers checking in with Cat, but the White House has to be in siege mode right now. 

Kara puts on makeup a little darker than normal, and pulls her hair into a sleek chignon. Looking at her pastel-colored dress, she finds it lacking. Instead she pulls a more daring ensemble from the far side of her closet. At first glance it might be demure, soft wool in navy with lines of color across it. But when it’s on, it hugs every curve, and stretching reveals just a hint of midriff, should Kara choose to. Paired with ‘fuck me’ heels, it’s a power ensemble fit for the person that the president loves. 

And despite it all, that’s enough to let Kara smile for just a moment.

Then there’s the thumping on the door, and with a simple bark of the word ‘kale’, Kara is letting six suited and booted security agents into her home. Unfortunately, she recognizes the lead agent from the various times Lena had needed protection while they were dating.

“Mike.”

“Kara. I gotta say, I don’t remember you being this interesting. Clearly, Washington agrees with you.”

“And clearly Lena has seen through you, or you’d be by her side in Metropolis.” Kara folds her arms, ready to reject the security detail until she considers the chaos on the other side of the door. “You’re not all going to fit in my Prius, you know that, right?”

“We brought our own wheels,” Mike assures her. “Closest thing you can get to a tank on civilian land.”

“Of course it is. Do I even want to know the fuel efficiency?”

Mike whistles low. “Well, I will say it can _carry_ a lot of gas, but it sure burns it fast enough. Don’t tell the polar bears, huh?”

Kara wishes she had a glare as withering as the ones she’s seen Cat dish out. “Just… get me to work. Preferably in one piece. Then I can see how the day goes, and hopefully return you to Lena like an unwanted gift, all before dinner.”

“I’m basically saving your life you know,” Mike whistles for his guys to get in formation. Kara does feel a little safer in their midst. “Hey, if hooking up with Cat Grant doesn’t work out, maybe we could get a drink?”

Kara rolls her eyes. This day can’t end soon enough.

***

The crisis meeting is held in the Roosevelt Room, a perfect fishbowl for passing staffers and visitors to gawp, but as Cat sweeps in flanked by her indoor detail, most people have the sense to scatter. 

Hank has the head of the table, and he moves to step aside once everyone is on their feet. Cat has gotten tired of telling them all they don’t have to stand whenever she walks in. She does manage to halt Hank in his tracks with a nod of her head, taking the seat at the opposite end of the table. It’s disarming how everyone shifts to face her, even as Hank resumes talking.

“As we were saying, we need to coordinate every press statement through James. Nobody improvises on this. As soon as we have an official statement-”

Lucy mutters something as she types frantically into her phone. It’s enough for Cat to seize on.

“What was that, Ms Lane?”

For a moment, Lucy is clearly considering stonewalling, but the urge to say her piece is always too strong for her. Cat usually admires that hotheaded quality but she has a dull ache in her lower back from too much exertion, and a throbbing headache from too little sleep. Not to mention she hasn’t seen Carter off to school yet thanks to this early meeting, and that always puts a crimp in her day. When she considers how lazy some of the occupants of the Oval have been, how leisurely their golfing and sleep late lives could be, she’s just a little jealous. Then Cat remembers just how high the bar she’s attempting to clear is, and simmers down to a life of working twice as hard just to get any credit at all. 

“I said, if we ever get an official statement. Though I’m hopeful today that we’ll finally accept that silence doesn’t work in the face of actual art.”

“I wouldn’t say the shots are terribly artistic, but then I suppose it’s not exactly Annie Leibovitz booked by Anna Wintour, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

Speaking of which, Cat vaguely remembers an upcoming Vogue shoot to encourage women candidates and voters alike. It’ll be a handy way of taking press temperature, seeing if that still goes ahead or is subject to a sudden ‘scheduling conflict’.

James steps in, ever the peacemaker. “We don’t have to say much, Madam President. But I agree with Lucy, we have to say _something_. Silence is a luxury we can no longer afford.” 

He looks exhausted. They all do. Cat pushes down the pang of guilt at the extra work and stress her happiness has cost them, just like she’s had to do every time events were rearranged around Carter’s tummy bug, or her accidental offending of the Governor of Iowa. There’s a cost, there’s always a cost, but Cat has always been able to push past her own feelings to get the job done.

And today is no exception.

“Your statement is this,” she begins, picking up the pen set out in front of her, something to do with her hands. They’ve been a little too much on the side of trembling, and the last thing she needs now is for the staff to doubt her in any more ways. “President Grant, with the blessing of her son Carter, has embarked on a new personal relationship. This in no way affects her focus on the work she came here to do as president. We would ask for her privacy to be respected. We’re all entitled to a personal life.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Hank stands to calm the torrent of overlapping feedback. “Did we all forget how to conduct a meeting? Of the various shouted concerns, I share only one. I’d stay away from the word ‘entitled’, ma’am. It poses some language problems, and there’s no actual law or precedent to lean on here.”

“There would be in Europe,” Winn pipes up, not entirely helpful. He shrinks under the room’s collective attention. “Just, they have… it’s the right to private and family life. It would be handy, that’s all. But the Constitution-”

There’s a knock on one of the room’s many glass doors, and Cat starts at the sight of her son flanked by his lead agent. A hundred panicked scenarios jump to mind, that his mild-ass Quaker school has just expelled him for Cat’s romantic choices, or that Pennsylvania Avenue is so full of homophobes that her son can’t even get to school.”

It turns out to be neither as she waves them in.

“Just saying goodbye,” Carter mutters as the room stays silent too long, before going back to instant, entirely pointless chatter off Cat’s glare. “You were already out of the Residence when I got up. You haven’t done that since the bombings last year.”

“Sorry, darling.” Cat pulls him into a hug, not caring if it shatters the hardass impression she’s just been making. Carter wriggles just a little, his encroaching teenage years making these moments shorter and less frequent by the week. It transpires he isn’t just there for a kiss goodbye. Cat really should have known better, he is her son after all.

“Are you doing anything for Kara? Is she coming here?”

“Kara has a job, sweetheart. I’ll check in with her, of course. But I’m not going to insult her by assuming she can’t cope. If anyone crosses a line, well…”

“So you didn’t send out a detail?”

“Not yet. Sam will advise me if I need to.”

Carter squints at her, suspicious. “Then somebody beat you to it.” He pulls his tablet out of his open backpack, and Cat sees the now-familiar sight of Kara’s building. Private security, the overly-muscled, gum-chewing attention type that would never make the grade at Treasury, are moving like a rugby scrum towards their idling Hummers. A flash of blonde hair in amongst them confirms Kara’s presence, and Cat is caught between a wave of fresh panic and a sigh of relief. 

The chyrons are relentless. Carter cycles through his open apps and she catches glimpses of ‘Presidential lover’, ‘President Grant’s secret girlfriend’. The paparazzi shots from last night take up half of the screen on Fox, with live footage side-by-side. Their headline is ‘Presidential Booty Call’, and Cat wants to sink through the floor. Has it really come to this?

“I think today we should remember the limits on your screen time.”

“You went to Kara’s last night?”

Cat isn’t about to start lying to him now, but with a nod to Hank he has the room clearing of everyone but himself, James and Lucy. “Well, you know she’s stayed here a few times. I’m trying to keep some balance in the relationship.”

“That sounds smart, Mom. Is this… out now? What if people ask me today?”

His lead agent motions to the door discreetly. Time is very much ticking on the school run. Cat smiles in acknowledgment. “What happens now is you go to school. And you do just what you’ve always done, sweetheart. You don’t have to talk to anyone, and if you feel that you do? Make sure it’s someone we know and trust, and stick to the facts. But Carter, most of the people chasing you right now, they’re not the people we know and trust. Let the agents do their job.”

Carter smiles at her, but it doesn’t come all the way up at the edges. He’s still worried, and a small part of Cat is screaming at her to keep him home, to surround him with safety and comfort a hundred levels deep, so nothing in the world can ever harm him. This life she’s dragged them into so often makes motherhood a raw nerve, one she tries to avoid thinking about, but the steady threat of pain hums below the surface with every heartbeat. 

“Bye, mom. Bye guys!” He waves at the remaining staff and they wave back. Cat blinks back an unintended tear or two, and considers what she might do for people she loves. 

“James, bring your briefing forward and get as close to the language I gave you as Hank will allow. Lucy… go find your numbers boy before he gets lost in the basement again, and start polling. If we’re going to deal with this Kara situation, if… I’m going to protect her, we need to know what we’re dealing with. We need to poll the people who matter, and we find a way to make this all right by as many of them as possible.”

“Finally.” Lucy’s impertinence is offset by her beaming smile. It’s the first time in days she’s looked anything other than exhausted. “But ma’am, that might not be enough to-”

“That’s all I’m willing to give.”

With that, Cat ends the conversation for good by getting up and leaving the room, enjoying how the recently-evicted staffers scatter in her wake. Hank is the quickest to react, and soon falls in step with her.

“We can keep today quiet, direct everything to the residence,” he suggests, and there’s a hint of the unspoken test about it. 

“No, let’s go public and splashy. As much as we can within these walls, anyway. I’ll be calling Kara shortly to invite her over tonight. Not that it’s meant for public consumption, but I need to know that she’s still… functional after all this.”

“You just saw her last night.” Hank pauses as they reach the door of the Oval, folding his arms over his broad chest. “Do I need to adjust the plan already, or…?”

“It’s just good manners at this stage.” Cat enters her office, fresh and ready for another day of governing. The carpets are immaculate, the light perfect from every angle. “In the meantime, let’s show the country their president is working as hard as ever, hmm? Chop, chop. That goes for my staffers, too.”

Hank departs with a teasing salute, and Cat calls for Siobhan.

After rattling off the day’s instructions and filling the girl in on events so far, Cat waits for an objection, pleased when none is forthcoming. 

“And Siobhan?”

“Yes?”

“I’m inviting Kara over this evening, can you let the kitchens and Secret Service know? I’m going to need some donuts, too…”

A blink, then two. “Of course, Madam President. Will Ms Danvers require a car?”

“I believe she has private security, if you could have them liaise? I’ll get the details from her, but I don’t want our call to be full of complications. You understand?”

“What’s to understand?” If Cat isn’t mistaken, Siobhan looks a little hurt. That crush has been under control for some time, but it seems a rival has reawakened something in her competent assistant. “I’ll do everything you asked. Will the fusion dishes you liked so much last month be acceptable?”

“Sounds great.” 

“Ten minutes until the HUD Secretary,” Siobhan reminds her, reliable as clockwork. “If you have a call to make?”

Cat nods and waits for the door to close. She jabs at Kara’s name on the screen and waits for the call to ring out.

***

They’ve been trying to have a meeting like nothing is out of the ordinary, but the unfortunate order everyone arrived in means that Kara and Astra are facing each other over the long length of the conference table. Staffers line each side, heads swiveling back and forth like the crowd at a tennis match. All they’re missing is some popcorn and a chorus of ‘ooh’s each time a barbed comment lands.

She sees the alert on her phone first. “Dinner tonight at WH? Good time for a call?”

It’s not really like Cat to ask permission first, so it must be important. Or she’s being especially delicate over the whole million-people-outside-your-building thing, which is nice if unnecessary. 

_Gimme 5?_ Is what she taps out almost invisibly, but of course Astra notices, even mid-diatribe. Their temporary truce has dissolved in the face of the work still to be done. If it were any other day, Kara might joke about it melting faster than the polar ice caps, but that would definitely set her aunt and boss off. No need to attract even more trouble.

“Are we keeping you from something more important?” Astra asks sweetly. A trap if ever there was one. “Someone waiting to take your picture?”

Kara’s had enough of hiding and pretending, what’s the point when everyone knows anyway. “No, but I have a dinner at the White House, so if we can wrap this up I have a lot of work to do before tomorrow’s round of meetings on the Hill.”

“Ah, well, I’m having breakfast at the Kremlin, so we’ll have to see if all those meetings are still in place.” Astra’s warning is legitimate, despite the cheap shot. “You see, I might have to step in for you, if our nation’s legislators decide they don’t want to be seen consorting with the president’s bit on the side. It could be… costly for our agenda. And my time.”

“That won’t happen,” Kara assures her, even though it’s been one of her biggest fears about being outed. Not just as a girlfriend, but for liking women in the first place. Her past with Lena had been an open secret in Metropolis, a far more open-minded place than Washington DC, even during a Democratic administration. “I’ll get my meetings, and I’ll get those votes.”

A murmur goes around the room, and suddenly Kara’s tired of it. She scoops up her things and heads for the door. There’s a phone call coming in any minute, and it feels infinitely more important than all this. 

“Make sure that you do!” Astra calls after her, and Kara simply waves.

***

She’s safely in her office when the phone rings, but with perfect timing Kelly pops in to see if there’s anything pressing to be done. Kara isn’t used to being dismissive, but she sends Kelly scurrying with a barked “not now” and picks up the call with no small amount of relief.

“Save me,” she groans, and there’s a momentary silence

“Are you okay?” Cat snaps into action. “Are they… what’s going on? Are you safe?”

“Oh, yes, yes,” Kara realizes her mistake. “Sorry, I was… bad day at work I guess. You sure you don’t need any new staff over there at the White House?”

“Well, submit your resume, you might get lucky.” Cat sounds calm again, which Kara likes very much indeed. It soothes her instantly. “But let’s be serious for just a moment. I turned up without an invite, I kissed you without checking for cameras, and look what you woke up to this morning…”

“I’d rather have woken up with you.” Kara is nothing if not constantly striving to be smooth. “And I prefer to focus on other things. Happier things.”

“Your security, they’re good?”

Kara rolls her eyes at the thought of Mike and his constant hitting on her. The guards have been banished to the lobby and the hallway, the closest she’s prepared to have them. 

“They’re… well paid,” is her compromise answer. “I think they’re just relieved to get a trip away from Metropolis, or maybe they’re from the Senator’s detail here in DC. Damn, that means I probably owe her a thank you call.”

“Which Senator?” Cat never lets new information get past her. ‘A mind like a steel trap’, Vanity Fair had said. They weren’t wrong. 

“Uh, Senator… Luthor? She’s, well, it’s really Lena that I’m friends with. Well, we’re friends _now_. I, uh…”

“You dated the daughter of Republican royalty?” At least Cat sounds amused. “You didn’t catch anything, did you? Like an overwhelming urge to gut social security or give tax breaks to the uber-wealthy?”

“She’s actually closer to us politically than her mother. Well, closer to me. You can be something of a centrist when it suits you.” Kara wouldn’t have dared to say such a thing just a month ago. “I remember all those hawkish comments about bombing our enemies during the campaign, you know. I was going to come challenge you on it at one of your town halls.”

“You know female candidates have to be disproportionately tough on these things, Kara. Don’t be naive. Tell me, have I bombed the living crap out of anyone so far?”

“No, but you have almost two years left, so don’t get any ideas.” It’s a risk, but worth it completely when Cat suppresses a snort of laughter. 

“I’ll settle for coming after their guns, as the NRA are no doubt spinning it already. Surely we’re on the same side on that one?”

“Yes, I agree on the grenade launcher and the assault rifles, but it could go further-”

“You really would fit in on my staff.” Cat clears her throat. “How is it that on a day with this much insanity, we can talk politics like any other time?”

“Because we’re both workaholics with an overburdened sense of duty?” Kara tries. “Is Carter okay? I hate thinking that kids at school might… you know.”

“The school he goes to isn’t anything like what we went through,” Cat points out. “He doesn’t even have the most impressive parentage in his homeroom, you know. And as for scandal? Please, the kids who aren’t royalty are the offspring of rockstars. The unshockable new generation.”

“So that means you really do want me to come over for dinner?”

“And be sure to bring your pajamas, since you’re officially staying over.”

Kara is swept up at the easy way in which Cat demands her presence, but she doesn’t get it quite that easily. “And what if I have an early yoga class?”

“Do you?”

“No, I suppose I don’t.”

“Siobhan will be in touch with arrangements,” Cat says. “I have a meeting, or we could… It won’t always be this way, Kara. Negotiating what we can and can’t have. The public attention. I mean, assuming after last night that we both plan on sticking with this-”

“I wouldn’t have said I love you if I was on the next train out,” Kara interrupts. “Or the midnight train to Georgia. Really any form of transport. I’m sticking around. That’s something else we can stop negotiating.”

“If we’re going to catch hell for this, for finding each other. For being happy and causing a scandal…” Cat trails off. “Yes, I’m right. We should absolutely just dig in and enjoy ourselves. We can’t control the media, or the rest of the world. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“Then I’ll see you tonight,” Kara promises. “And I don’t care if it makes the cover of the Times, the Post and the Sydney Morning Herald, the first thing I’m going to do is kiss you.”

“The fact that you know the paper of record in Australia pretty much guarantees it, yes.”

“Actually, there’s also-”

“Let’s not overdo it on the hot geek thing, darling.”

Kara bites back a laugh. Cat sounds so deliciously long-suffering about it. It’s a lot like being _known_. 

“Okay, okay. But if over dinner discussion turns to the international press, I can’t be held responsible.”

“You really should have been a reporter,” Cat teases, as though the thought doesn’t horrify them both in that moment. “Until later.”

Kara is smiling when she slips her phone back into her purse. 

“Kelly?”

“Yes, Ms Danvers?” Kelly opens the door with some trepidation after being dismissed so curly. 

“See who you can get me in with on the Hill this afternoon. Republican, Democrat, Scientologist, I’ll have sandwiches with the janitors if they’ll see me. It’s time we made some real progress.”

“Is that wise, with-”

“I’ve got security, Kelly. Let’s make them work for their steroids, shall we?”

“You’ve got calls from Lena Luthor, your sister-”

“Work first,” Kara insists, settling behind her desk. “Let me know when you get me in on the Hill, please. In fact, start with _Senator_ Luthor. She has a vote on her tax bill later, so she might actually meet me in her office this time, instead of dragging me to Metropolis.”

Kelly salutes as she leaves, and Kara starts sketching out her new strategy. She’s going to get her votes and get the girl. All she has to do is ignore the press, which means closing her browser and switching off every screen in her office. 

It’s just that when everything is so quiet, quiet enough to hear the murmurs of people in the hall and the office next door, Kara is left alone with just her thoughts. 

It won’t do any harm to just check CNN, surely? 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara comes over for dinner, but the press coverage is getting to her. She makes a crucial mistake that might compromise her work in the process. That tension is compounded by Max getting on television and saying some terrible things. Will Kara and Cat make it through the evening?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminders: in this story Alex was fostered by Kara's parents, and they all share the name Danvers. Kara's parents are dead in this story, but she was older than in canon when it happened, more college age. The how is part of this chapter so TW: for minor character death.

Debate is getting heated again when Siobhan interrupts the late Oval Office meeting. Cat hasn’t been quite so relieved to see her in quite some time. 

“Yes?” 

“Ma’am, you’re running late for dinner, and Ms Danvers wanted to see if you need a rain check?”

“She’s here?” Cat is on her feet in an instant, forgetting she kicked her shoes off behind the desk when the arguing broke out. Her senior staff are watching on, only the topic of her personal life enough to distract them from their argument on something to do with bump stocks that Cat has honestly lost the thread of. 

“Hey!” Kara does her signature awkward wave when Siobhan stands aside. “Oh don’t… I’m not here to make you feel bad, it’s just the agents brought me in and I didn’t want to just settle into… you know, I can just head home.”

“No, no,” Cat insists, reaching out for Kara’s arm, tugging her bodily into the Oval. “These boys and girls were just heading back to their offices. Weren’t you?”

“Madam President, if we could just take ten more minutes-” Lucy starts to object, but Hank steers them towards the other door. Instead of leaving with her, James, and Winn, he heads over to greet Kara himself. It involves a slightly confused detangling of limbs for Kara to shake his hand, but Cat can’t help smiling at her most trusted adviser indulging her new… girlfriend. 

“Ms Danvers, always a pleasure.” Hank stares when Kara holds onto his hand a little too long. 

“Mr. Henshaw. Please, you can call me Kara. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself in your office, I don’t suppose I’d be here now.” 

“Always happy to help facilitate more romance in this world.” Hank pats Cat on the shoulder once his hand is free again, and she nods in silent acknowledgment of the loss he endured before coming to work for her. It made him indispensable in her grief, and she likes to think they helped heal each other by doing good work together. “How are things at Myriad? Astra is never far from my call sheet.”

“Oh, I was out of the office today. Currying favor on the Hill, you know, as my kind do.”

“Who was on the agenda today?” Cat asks, realizing that she’s made zero progress on her end of the bargain if Kara does succeed. The gun bill has become priority one. 

“A few Congresspeople from safe districts, shoring up support. Then I had another swing at Senator Luthor.”

“You should watch yourself around her,” Hank warns. “Since we started on this gun bill, she’s been more persistent than your aunt. I’m starting to dream she has snipers outside my house. She told me there is nothing she’s more dedicated to crushing than our gun legislation, so it’s going to be a long few months.”

“Well then, I have good news for you,” Kara says. “Because I got chapter and verse on how she’ll roll over and die on the Senate floor before she’ll let a bunch of ‘tree hugging hippies’ hold ‘America to ransom’. Said she’d sooner let ‘Cat Grant take our damn guns’.”

Cat startles at what Kara has just said. If she interrupts now, maybe the change in tack will prevent Hank from realizing, too.

“Darling, if I get one of the agents to show you upstairs, I’ll be with you in just five minutes. I swear.”

“I can wait if-”

“No, go, be comfortable. I’ll bring a nice bottle of wine up with me.”

“Oh, okay then.” Kara looks a little put out, but Cat leaning in to kiss her cheek soon brings the sunshine smile back. “See you there.”

Cat gestures to the nearest agent on the Portico, and Kara lets herself out to begin her short journey. The silence holds. Cat holds her breath, not looking back at her chief of staff. Hank clears his throat, and she makes a last ditch effort.

“Hank-”

“Do I have water in my ears from taking a swim this morning? Or did the president’s girlfriend just give us the leverage we need to get our gun bill passed? Luthor might be a hardliner, but she effectively brings a whole caucus with her.”

“Which caucus is that again? Right-wing lunatics?”

“Madam President, while I respect that you have other priorities right now-”

Cat turns on him then. “My one priority is running this country. I expect dissent on that from others but never from you, Hank. That said, I believe that we can have both, even if it means some compromises on both bills. Surely that’s the art of the possible?”

He folds his arms over his broad chest. “You’re really going with Bismarck?”

“Oh, that was him?” Cat is the picture of feigned innocence, and she knows it. “I thought I was quoting Evita.”

“Sure, because Argentinian fascists is an upgrade. Ma’am… Cat… if this slump in your numbers doesn’t turn around, there’s every chance we’ll need Lillian Luthor and her posse of flat earthers.”

“Pulling the first name card, you must really mean that,” Cat sighs. “I’m not ruling it out, I knew there was going to be a squeeze on my political capital. Just let me see how far Kara gets, then we can throw all our weight behind the gun bill when she falls short.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

Cat rolls her eyes, mostly to hide that she’s agonizing over that very decision. “If you’ll excuse me there’s a beautiful, intelligent woman waiting for me, not to mention a fruity Californian.”

“Isn’t that what they called you in your first campaign?”

“Goodnight, Hank.”

“Good evening, Madam President. We’ll try and keep the world from burning down overnight.”

She pats his arm in acknowledgment. “Go have a drink with someone, would you? You need a night off every now and then.” Hank nods in agreement, even though they both already know that he won’t. 

Cat leaves him standing in her office, and follows Kara’s earlier path via the Portico. Agents are placed at their regular intervals, no shuffling or change of personnel in the shadows. Peace and privacy is only moments away. Now Cat just has to let herself enjoy it.

***

Kara is in the family room, shoes off and legs tucked under her on the sofa while she watches the news, channel hopping like she preset them herself. To her horror, even the late night news in France is covering their story, snippets of which have been jumping out at Kara all day, ever since she gave in and watched ten minutes of rolling coverage on CNN.

Media has never been a big part of her job, no matter how it’s talked up. For popular votes and large elections, sure. Lobbying however isn’t so much about public opinion as it is leaning on politicians to uphold or ignore it. Only the highest of polling numbers and fearsome of editorials make an impact, far less whether any given action is ‘the right thing to do’. Kara’s been adjusting to that disillusionment since college.

The rational side of her knows that there’s no point arguing with a newsreader through the television, and yet Kara is drawn into it anyway. The French journalist calls her ‘Kira’ which is irritating all by itself, but when they start just repeating tabloid fodder as her biography, she starts contradicting them out loud. In French, naturally.

“I swear you were American when you left.”

Cat enters so quietly that Kara doesn’t hear her over her string of French invective. Even though it’s only been a few minutes, Kara’s heart skips a beat at the sight of the leader of the free world, high heels in hand and jacket already hanging from one finger. 

“And last I checked, speaking languages other than English didn’t preclude a person from being American.”

“Touché.” Cat drops her belongings on an unoccupied armchair and reduces the distance between them, step by determined step. “But if you wanted to remind me of the State Dinner and why I’m falling for you so damn quickly, it’s a nice way to do it. Are you done ranting? Or should I call our embassy and let them know to prepare for hostilities?”

“I come in peace,” Kara says, holding her hands up in surrender. Cat takes them both in her own, tangling their fingers together at shoulder height. It’s perfectly balanced for her to lean in and claim her kiss, and she doesn’t hesitate to do exactly that. There’s something a little distracted in the way Kara kisses back, and Cat tunes back in to the television prattling on in French. Maneuvering them back onto the sofa, she frees her hand from Kara’s long enough to switch the damn thing off.

Then Kara is back with her, in earnest. She’s halfway to unzipping Cat’s charcoal-gray pants when there’s a knock on the living room door. 

“Mom?”

Cat sits bolt upright, gently shoving Kara aside. With frantic fingers, she tries to smooth her hair back into place. 

“Yes, darling?”

Carter enters with a textbook in hand, smirking at them both but not making eye contact. “Sam bet me a McDonald’s run that I’d interrupt you two making out.”

“Did she now?” Cat makes a mental note to have the agent pay for that. “Well, as you can see, we’re just sitting here, catching up.”

“Is that why your lipstick is all over Kara’s mouth?”

Kara wipes her face furiously. Thank God she wanted to save the rainforests and not, say, join the CIA. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be…” Cat fumbles for the last thing she saw on Carter’s schedule. “Observing… something?”

“That’s next week,” Carter answers. “But I can totally be in my room if you two are having dinner.”

“No!” Kara practically yelps, getting off the sofa. “We can… um…”

“Order pizza and watch a movie,” Cat finishes smoothly. Okay, she had grander plans, but Carter’s bedtime is reasonably early. “Kara, are you an any toppings will go kind of girl?”

“Even pineapple,” Kara confirms. “Wait, you can just call Domino’s and-”

“No, Kara,” Carter says, his tone withering. “We said pizza, not Domino’s. And we have a kitchen guy who collects, no one knows it’s coming to the White House.”

“Okay, so who gets to pick the movie?” Kara demands, hands on her hips. Carter doesn’t humor her, staring her down. 

“Oh for God’s sake… guest picks. You’re up, Kara. Remember to keep it PG-13 or lower.”

“Mom, she probably watches more Disney than I do.”

“Hey!” 

For a moment Cat thinks there’s actual tension, that Carter has been lying about being cool with the headlines and intrusion. But Kara cracks first in their fake standoff, ruffling Carter’s curls as he dissolves into giggles too.

“Or we could just watch this live comedy show,” Cat sighs, pulling Kara back down to the sofa. “Carter, you can still finish your homework after telling the kitchens it’s a pizza night. We’ll put the movie on with dinner.” 

He scrunches up his face. “Gross, Mom.”

She gestures to the door and he slips out with a grin in their direction. 

“Now,” Cat says, starting to unbutton her blouse. “Where were we?”

***

A pre-dinner not-quite-quickie takes some of the edge off, although Kara’s favorite part turns out to be lying on the very fancy sofa with Cat in her arms. They’re mostly undressed and there’s the nagging sense they should go wash up before dinner, but for the first time all day Kara isn’t watching ticker tape headlines or hearing her name in news bulletins. 

It’s really nice.

By the time they’re presentable, settling down in the den next door where the TV screen is far more impressive, Kara has lost some of her appetite for pizza. She still demolishes most of a Hawaiian, to Carter’s betrayed disgust, but her heart isn’t in it. 

She keeps her phone on silent, tucked partly under her thigh as they debate the merits of one movie over another, before settling on Hidden Figures. Each news alert that she’s signed up for flashes briefly on the screen each time a new story goes live. The Times, the Post, CNN, BBC, with FOX and the Journal for balance. Each one adds to the gnawing dread in the pit of her stomach, until it feels like she’s digesting rocks instead of fluffy pizza dough. 

“Goodnight, Kara,” Carter is saying, accepting a kiss from Cat on his cheek and making towards the door. 

“Hmm? Oh, goodnight.”

The minute he’s gone, Cat turns to her. “I know I can be… distracted, with my job. Some accuse me of being oblivious to the world around me, unless it serves my political agenda. That said… where are you tonight?”

“I’m… right here!”

“No.” Cat wags one finger between them in contradiction. “It’s like you’re on another planet.”

“I promise,” Kara turns her phone over and shuffles closer so they’re back in kissing range. “I’m on this one, with you.”

“So you’re not pissed about Carter crashing…?” Cat wrings her hands now, and it’s unlike her to be so unsure.

“Of course not, I like the kid, remember? And I’ve said right from the start this is a package deal. And what we said, the way I feel about you… that’s not something confined to the rare hours alone, okay? It’s out there, and it’s real, and we’re doing this. Aren’t we?”

Kara says it all more for her own reassurance than Cat’s. Even now without a single input or screen, she can imagine the scrolling yellow news tickers and the same two pictures of her being plastered across screens big and small. She blinks a few times, chasing the thoughts away. 

“We are.” Cat picks up the remote from where it’s sitting on the coffee table. “Now, not to bring work home, but Max Lord is doing one of the late nights, and my curiosity is killing me.”

“Kimmel, Fallon, or Colbert?” Kara tamps down her spike of excitement at getting to put the coverage on, even as the heavy feeling in her stomach persists. It’s like she’s looking for a fix. “Because I’m not sure I can take a fluff piece on him, though that’s what it’ll be this early on.”

“Colbert, thank God.” Cat flips over to channel nine. “He might not have his cable ferocity, but at least he still makes them squirm.”

Kara gets up and fixes them both a brandy, folding back into her seat like she does it every night. It pleases her more than a little when Cat relaxes into her side, draining her drink before laying her head on Kara’s shoulder. All the better for Kara to run her fingers through those blonde curls, then. It’s nice to feel less urgent, less like they’re grabbing time. The interlude before dinner has certainly helped with that. 

The monologue is a little punchy, referencing Cat and Kara only in passing. It helps that yet another Hollywood sleaze has been exposed by courageous women, and though Kara wishes they’d never had to go through that, it does split the headlines in a convenient way. 

By the first ad break they’re making out, which is far preferable to listening to Sean Penn ramble about… well, nobody seems to know. Including Stephen Colbert. 

All too soon the music picks up again, and they’re back from the second break. Colbert introduces Senator Lord as a “genius of technology, and National City’s most famous export beside… well, our President.” Cat wrinkles her nose and Kara gives her a side-hug of solidarity. They fall silent as the interview unfolds.

“So Senator, not to cut to the chase-”

“No, no, I’m all about cutting to the chase, Stephen.”

“Right. So what’s the deal with you running for President? As a Republican, no less?” There’s only a smattering of applause, which Kara is oddly grateful for. 

“Well, I’d say I’m more of a Libertarian.”

“Of course you would,” Cat says with a snort. “That way you get to be an asshole and superior about it, all at the same time.”

“While raking in money from the RNC,” Kara adds. It’s frustrating that this is how it works.

“Still, the country is running pretty well. I mean, you have to give it to President Grant on some points. She balanced the books after 15 months. That was no small deficit. Not to mention the victories for Equal Pay, for transgender rights, and the almost incidental matter of ending a war.”

“You would say that, Stephen. I’ve seen how she flirts with you when she comes on here.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna flirt with me?” Colbert doesn’t miss a beat. “Because I gotta tell you, Senator. I liked to be wooed.”

“I’m sure you do.” Senator Lord is playing along fine, that permanent smile getting on Kara’s nerves. And she likes smiling. “But the markets took care of the economy, they always do. The war was naturally coming to a conclusion--and America won, by the way. Equal Pay, the other stuff… that matters more to Democrats. They fix a few cosmetic things, and pretend the middle class is better off for it. Well, they’re not.”

“So you want to give more money to the middle class?” 

“My ass he does,” Cat replies before Lord can open his mouth.

“You have a great ass,” Kara reminds her with a playful squeeze. “Are you this mouthy in debate prep? You must give your staff aneurysms.”

Cat doesn’t answer, because Lord is off and running again. “I want to put the hardworking people in this country first. I don’t do distractions. I start on a project, and I make it a success. I don’t get halfway through and then decide suddenly I need a private life.”

This is the litmus test, Kara realizes. If he’s allowed to say this stuff unchecked, it’s going to set the tone for Cat’s entire reelection campaign. 

“So you don’t date?” Colbert is incredulous. “Funny, but that Hugo Boss suit doesn’t look like monk’s robes.” Big laughs from the audience. Gothamites don’t like a hypocrite.

“It’s Armani, but that couldn’t matter less.” A few laughs from the audience. “I keep it separate from my work. I’ve dated some beautiful and brilliant women, I don’t deny that. I have however, managed to keep it out of the tabloids. Cat Grant can’t even control this story, how’s she supposed to keep control of the country?”

A low blow. Kara feels Cat stiffen at her side.

“And this… Kara Danvers? You know her?”

“Our paths have crossed.”

Colbert consults his notes. “I gotta say, by all accounts this is a beautiful and brilliant woman, too. Summa cum laude from University of Metropolis. She went to work with the school district in Metropolis, then she became a lobbyist and sorted out the police department there. The Mayor still has nightmares about her, so he tells me. Now she’s trying to save the planet Is there… something wrong with being good at your job?”

It’s the first time anyone has done their damn research, and Kara is caught off-guard by the facts being presented so clearly. Maybe journalism isn’t dead after all. 

“No,” Lord admits, holding up his hands. “I’m just saying, there are ways to be good. And I’ve heard some very troubling rumors about how Ms Danvers was so effective in those roles.”

A picture of Kara flashes up on the screen. No one has used this one so far, it’s a shot of her getting out of the limo they sent for the State Dinner. Her leg is bared by the split in her dress, and the bending to get out makes it look way more cleavage-revealing than it actually was. 

“What are you suggesting? She baked them cookies in exchange for cleaning up poorly-run departments?”

“I’m saying corruption isn’t just money changing hands,” Lord continues, and Kara can feel Cat looking at her in surprise. “Sometimes it’s about ‘favors’.” The asshole actually does air quotes around the word. The rock in Kara’s stomach threatens to fall right out onto her toes.

“You’re not implying that the President’s girlfriend was exchanging se-”

“I’m just repeating what’s been told to me,” the Senator interrupts, so the statement can be just short of slander. “I’d ask the voters to research the facts that are readily available online, and come to their own conclusions.”

“Come on,” Colbert leans in, and he’s not joking now. Kara thinks he might actually be angry. “You don’t think that’s a cheap shot? She’s pretty, they’re both women, this isn’t just setting the bar low and hoping for some ‘fake news’?”

Lord shrugs. “That’s not my style. And maybe it runs in the family, I heard some stories about her mother that… well. The great judge was maybe not always so judicious.”

“You’re talking about Supreme Court Judge Alura Danvers? Really?” Kara can’t breathe. “For those of you at home who may not know, the judge was killed a number of years ago in an assassination plot, along with her husband. He was in line to be Head of the EPA, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, only his opposition to business was holding things up. He really had it in for LordTech and-”

“I’m sorry, Senator, that’s really all we have time for. Good luck with the nomination. I’m sure your party will pick the best man for the job.”

They don’t shake hands. That’s the one consolation, Kara tells herself. Stephen Colbert seems like a decent, liberal guy, and he looks downright disgusted as they fade out to commercial. The band plays a little too long, so they must have gone early. 

“Kara…” Cat’s voice is barely a whisper. She’s going to believe it, isn’t she? She heard all those horrible things, and she’s going to tell Kara it’s over. Not that Kara can even get upset. She hasn’t heard her mother’s name casually thrown around like that in so long. The Supreme Court confirmation had been just a year before her death. 

“I don’t…” The tears won’t come. Kara is stuck, without words, without one identifiable emotion that she can seize on and let out. “I…”

“I’m so sorry,” Cat begins. “That was way over so many lines. We’ll fight back, we’ll smack him in the press, make him issue a retraction.”

Kara is on her feet, though she doesn’t remember standing. She starts to pace. Moving helps. 

“I never told people,” she begins. “It’s in the reports, but most people don’t know I was there that day. I’d come home early from school, and we were going to go out for ice cream. It was one of those freak coincidences when busy people were all free at the same time.”

“This is… Kara, you don’t have to.” Cat stands too, trying to keep up with her. Kara shrugs off the attempt at a hug. 

“I forgot my book. I never left home without a book, until that day. I promised I would just be a minute, not to start the car until I came back. Because, you know, the emissions.”

“Kara-”

“I heard the car start from my bedroom. The window was always a little bit open. Then all the glass shattered and the smoke was just…”

“You could have been in the car with them,” Cat realizes out loud. “You can’t blame yourself, you were lucky to escape. They would have wanted that, more than anything. I’m a parent, Kara. Trust me on that.”

Kara stops and faces the muted television. “The rest of my family had to hear that. What he said about me. What he tried to say about my mother. Those pro-life whackjobs took her life, Cat. And my father’s. I can’t let him tarnish her legacy with lies. I won’t.”

It’s then that Cat takes her hand. “Kara, I know how angry you must be. How hurt. I will personally call your friends and relatives to apologize for what they had to hear tonight.”

“And?” Kara urges. “Come on, surely this is the point you go on the offensive?”

Cat shakes her head. “It’s my last election, darling. For the last real job I’ll ever have. And I owe it to the people who voted for me, who are going to vote for me, to keep the level of debate dignified. If I stoop to Lord’s level, he’s already won.”

“He’s already winning,” Kara hears the hiss of pain around her words. “He’s taking the fact that we love each other and turning it into something sordid, something shameful. How is that dignified?”

“People with sense won’t listen to him. The people who do? They already hated us anyway.”

“That’s a politician’s answer,” Kara protests, but Cat pulls her into an embrace that lasts. 

“I’m a politician,” Cat murmurs against Kara’s neck.

“Then politically, I think I should lay low for a while. Go see some field work in the rainforest, or whatever the hell.” Kara doesn’t like the suggestion, not when she’s so close to getting her votes. But she might go crazy here in DC.

“Not necessary,” Cat says. “Day after tomorrow I’m in the Far East for over a week. China, Japan, the whole deal. When I get back there are some campaign events in New Hampshire and Iowa, none of which it would be sensible to take you on, even if you were free.”

“So…?”

“So when all that is done, with many pleasant phone conversations and emails exchanged, I hope, you can come meet me at Camp David and we’ll have a lovely long weekend. How does that sound?”

Kara sighs. “Like a compromise. But a lovely one, so yeah. Count me in.”

“We will handle this, Kara. Just… within limits, okay?”

“I don’t need you to fight for me,” Kara reminds her. “I can take care of myself, always have. But I wish you’d reconsider letting these people who just hate and tear things down have free reign. They say they do it because they love America, so why is it they don’t seem to like most Americans?”

“That,” Cat says, reaching up to kiss Kara softly. “Is the $64 million question. One that I don’t have the answer to. Do you still want to stay over?”

Kara nods. 

“Then let’s go across the hall to bed, and forget any of these people even exist,” Cat offers, and Kara is all too relieved to accept.


	16. Chapter 16

Two weeks without fresh material cools the temperature on the Kara story somewhat. Cat is relieved that foreign journalists seem less inappropriate than her own traveling press pool, who bring up Kara at least three times a day and make noisy bets on the plane about who dumped who, and whether the relationship is really over. 

They’re just under a third of the way through their three-hour flight from Beijing to Tokyo when Sam appears at the door of Air Force One’s presidential cabin. 

“Odd request for you ma’am.”

“If the journalists are getting rowdy, remind them they can always be transferred to the cargo hold.”

“If I thought I could get away with it, ma’am,” Sam replies. “No, most of them are napping after all the drinks at lunch. But Lois Lane passed me this.” She holds up an orange, with something scribbled on it in Sharpie.

_NFP?_

Cat groans, pulling her reading glasses off and gesturing for the orange to be handed over. She could do with more vitamin C. 

“Ma’am, if she’s threatening to hijack the plane, it would give my guys a work out.”

“No, we only get that lucky when Harrison Ford is president,” Cat says. “Tell Lois to come on up. Without making it obvious, or they’ll all want a turn.”

Sam adjusts her weapon in its holster, even though she could never discharge it on a plane. “If you’re sure… you did hear me say _Lois_ Lane?”

“We go back a long way, Agent Arias. She knows the magic words.”

Cat idly tries to read the Post’s front page without her glasses, before giving it up as a loss. She kicks her feet up on the desk, her plane office actually being her favorite of all the places she gets to work as president. Her flight jacket is comfortable too, quilted and with the seal of the president over the breast pocket. She could sleep in it, should the need arise. Perhaps it was designed that way. It looks good with her blue jeans and ankle boots, too, though she’ll have to change before they disembark in the Japanese capital.

“Madam President.” Lois hesitates in the doorway, nervous about the two agents flanking her. Sam is somewhere behind them, silently disapproving. Despite their often colorful past, she’d never dare to risk anything other than the official title with witnesses. “You got my message?”

“Yes, do come in. Agents, that will be all.”

They close the door, leaving Lois just a few feet away from Cat. Instead of the presidential casual that Cat has opted for, Lois travels suited and booted. The tweed is a nice touch, plucked straight from this season’s St. John Collection, more than a few items of which are lurking in the White House closets. Cat does miss the relaxation of champagne and an afternoon lost with her personal shoppers, but the staff have brought a certain efficiency to the process that she appreciates. 

“Not bringing the boy toy on this trip?” Cat indicates for Lois to sit, and instead of the visitor chair, she sits carefully on the sofa behind it. Typical. 

“I didn’t think it was appropriate.”

“No? That hasn’t stopped you any other time.”

“Given that Kara Danvers is his cousin, I thought I’d do you a favor.” Cat blanches. She hadn’t known Mr. Cornfed Kansas was a Danvers relation. Then again, why would she even suspect that? “Not massively public knowledge, but someone would have unearthed it. We’d prefer to stay out of this particular spotlight.”

“Well, it can be unforgiving to wrinkles.” Not that Lois has more than a laugh line or two. Her complexion is as flawless as ever. “I suppose you’re glad your sister didn’t make this trip?”

“She has enough fires to fight at home,” Lois stretches her arms out along the back of the sofa. “I’m worried about you.”

“Spare me.” Cat picks up the briefing notes she’s been avoiding, even though she still hasn’t replaced her reading glasses. Japan she always finds a little easier, since she speaks some of the language. CatCoJPN had been her second international venture. That doesn’t mean she can skip the bullet points on the talks for coming days. “What are you really here for? What do you want to ask that’s Not For Publication?”

“About Kara, obviously. I saw how Lord’s been coming after her, that can’t sit well with your temper.”

Cat gives a baleful glance. “I’m a grown up now. I don’t lose my temper. I don’t throw chairs. I barely even throw a napkin. The trick is-”

“Finding the anger beneath the anger, I know.” Lois holds a hand up in something like defeat. Her glossy black hair falls in perfect sheets either side of her face. Yup. Maddening. “But this isn’t that deep. You’re letting some punk smack talk your girlfriend, and he’s smearing the presidency at the same time. If you can’t stand up for both, I thought at least one of those would spur you into action. Where’s the verbal shutdown? Why aren’t you on Samantha Bee laughing about how much hair gel he uses?”

“I’ve done that, lesser Lane. I’ve done it in every campaign, and every board meeting before that. I’ve sunk to their level and let them laugh while I did it. I’m protecting the office, and Kara, by letting both have the dignity they deserve.”

“Sounds like a cop out to me.” Lois uncrosses her ankles and stands, smoothing out her slacks although they don’t have a single wrinkle. “Unless the rumors I’m hearing are true.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cat is regretting ever letting Lois in here.

“That you’re about to sell out the environmental legislation to get your compromise gun bill out of committee? That there’s just enough Republican spite in Congress to help you do it. And you figure that’s going to take care of the girlfriend issue for you.”

It was really too much to hope that the maneuvering would go undetected. Being out of the country has allowed Cat to direct the Democrats more discreetly, and for once they’re actually behaving. Usually it’s like herding cats, trying to get them to enact any of the promises they made to get elected in the first place. It means the way is clear to negotiate with the few moderate Republicans they need, and it should make for a splashy victory when it all comes off.

God knows Cat could do with one of those. She ignores her email where the latest polling numbers are blaring out at her. She’s skirting close to 50 and there’s a suggestion that the next round will be down on that, even.

“Have you ever known me to be less than direct?” Cat stands, pleased when even Lois scrambles to her feet, following protocol. “Thanks for checking in, but I have the situation in hand. As always.”

“Be careful, Kitty.” There it is, the first name for effect. “But what I really don’t get is why you’re pulling your punches. If anyone can do it all--pass the bills, get the guns, get the girl--it’s you. I’ve been on your case for years, but I never thought I’d see the day when you don’t even try.”

Cat freezes at it being called out so plainly. It’s not that, not the ugly thing Lois says. It’s politics. It’s how the game is played, like it or not. Bismarck wasn’t kidding about those sausages. 

“Going after all those things at once?” Cat gives a hollow little laugh. “Yeah, maybe I could. I’d have to spend every drop of capital, make promises I’m not proud of, maybe. But it would cost me the one thing I need to do any of it. My job. Between the NRA nuts and the climate change deniers, I’d be voted out so fast I won’t even get time to pack.”

“At least you’d go back to National City with your head held high.” Lois isn’t going to let her off, not even now. “At least you’d have done something. Instead you’ll have a ten-minute lesbian scandal and a weakass gun bill that doesn’t really change anything. Still, at least in California you’ll feel it first when the planet really starts to overheat, Madam President.”

“You really should get back to your seat.”

Cat watches her go, hands clenched into fists that make her short manicure almost draw blood from her palms. She considers calling Kara then and there from the plane, her instant solution for feeling better lately, but it doesn’t seem fair with what Lois has just said. Compromise is what gets things done. If it loses her Kara, then perhaps she’s too naive to be a lobbyist in the first place. Cat has loved and lost before, she’ll survive it again. 

She calls for Siobhan, who’s lurking just outside as usual. “Can you get Winn Schott on the phone? I need some new data from him.”

“Right away,” Siobhan says, reaching for the phone on Cat’s desk. 

***

Kara looks up at the knock on her open office door. She’s found that leaving it wide actually dissuades visitors, because at least this way they can see how busy she is without interrupting her to find out. 

“That’s a lot of paper for an environmental organization,” Alex teases, nodding at the stack on Kara’s desk. 

“We’ll we’ve gone paper-free, but the same can’t be said for the seat of government,” Kara grumbles, standing to greet her sister with a hug. “Did we have lunch plans, because I just got in with Wyatt from the Maryland 8th.”

“Surely she’s a yes?”

“You’d think, but I suspect I’m being leveraged as the President’s girlfriend again.” Kara sits on her sofa, and Alex takes the spot next to her. She’s not in office wear today, but her preferred tactical gear softened just a bit with a fitted leather jacket. “The Republicans are calling me an abomination, but the Democrats just want to drag me to their fundraisers.”

“You’re not seriously going to them, are you?”

“Are you kidding?” Kara snorts, nodding to where Mike is out in the hallway trying to hit on Kelly and Eve at the same time. “I go home, I go to work, I spend time on the Hill. I’m living on takeout and protein bars, and every time I step outside I have him or one of his goons dogging my every step.”

“Did you see what Max-”

“Alex, please.” Kara holds up a hand. “I learned my lesson about this, and I need you to follow suit, okay? You can’t get sucked into the press coverage. There’s so much, and it just makes you crazy.”

“But when he said what he did about you, about Alura…” Alex’s shoulders are tense; she’s ready for the fight. “What’s next? If he comes after me I don’t give a crap, but I can’t stand him shooting his mouth off about you. And god, the comments online are just-”

“Alex, that way madness lies,” Kara says, taking her sister’s hand. “You saw my spiral over this, but it’s easing up with Cat out of the country. All the coverage is from China and Japan and Singapore. I’m dropping in the coverage every day.”

“How do you know if you’re not checking?” Alex accuses, dark eyes glinting as she gives Kara a suspicious look. 

“ _Your_ girlfriend assigned two interns to keep on top of it. She doesn’t mind my press profile as long as we keep racking up the votes.”

“You’re really that close?”

Kara can’t hide her grin. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that when I see Cat at Andrews in three days, I can tell her it’s almost time for her to pull in those remaining votes. I’m going to have a real bill coming out of committee, Alex. This is a big win for me. And the planet.”

“Astra must be pleased,” Alex says. “I thought she was a bit chipper considering your press situation. Which, yes, I will force myself to stop checking obsessively. That said, I get a chance to knock Senator Lord into a wall, I can’t say I won’t take it.”

“That’s fair. Just don’t get arrested. Nobody seems to like you Feds very much. Not the Secret Service, not the cops on the Hill…”

“Tell me about it.” Alex stands, picking up the nondescript black bag she brought in with her and unzipping it. “Here, since you can’t exactly go bakery browsing, I brought you something.”

“Cannoli?” Kara yelps when she sees the box. “Oh, you’re my favorite person, I swear.”

“You say that now but wait til El Prez is back,” Alex jokes. “You’re going to Camp David for the whole weekend?”

“Unless she starts a war for fun on her way home, yeah.” Kara blushes, just a little. “God, I really miss her. We’ve talked every day, but it’s not the same, you know?”

“The perils of dating powerful women,” Alex sympathizes. They look out into the corridor and see Astra approaching. “Speaking of, I have lunch with someone who’s not confined to the building. Catch you later, okay? Call me if anything else happens. I’ve got your back, Kara.”

“I know.” Kara hugs her. “Now go, order something smothered in cheese just to horrify Astra, okay?”

“She’s still trying to turn me vegan, you know,” Alex replies, her grin fixed. “Oh well, she’s worth that fight.”

And just like that she’s gone, both of them waving back to Kara like she’s the last kid at school who forgot to get her permission slip signed. 

***

By the time Air Force One is on the approach to Andrews, Cat thinks it might take a sedative to keep her in her seat. It’s not like they can arrest her if she storms the flight deck and orders the Colonel to really floor it, so they can land a little sooner. 

“Did you need anything else, ma’am?” James appears at the door of her private cabin.

“No, but sit yourself down, Olsen. The fasten seatbelt light is on. Are we all set for after we land?”

“Carter is already there, his agents just confirmed arrival.” James checks his phone for last-minute changes. “Ms Danvers is en route, ETA roughly the same as wheels down.”

“And the press?”

“Will be conveniently rerouted in the opposite direction, distracted by gifts from the official haul. You should have a straight shot transferring to Marine One.”

Cat nods, pleased at the competence. “And there’s nothing brewing that I need to handle right away?”

“We’ve prepared remarks for everything in the last 24 hours, and there’ll be arrival footage of you getting off the plane, plus tons of coverage from the trip. No one should notice if the president has a quiet couple of days, because we’re keeping you in the news cycle.”

“You’ll be glad to see Lucy after this long apart?” Cat can’t resist a little gossip. It’s where she first made her name, after all. “I’d be surprised if she isn’t waiting at the foot of the stairs to jump you, honestly.”

“I missed her,” James says, but he’s overly cautious about it. Trouble in paradise? No, most likely his conversations with Lucy have been unfavorable about Cat. He gives away his guilt far too easily. “And yeah, you’re right. She’ll be glad we’re back. Actually, when you spoke to Winn, did he mention-”

“Madam President, ladies and gentlemen, we’re now beginning our descent into Andrews. You’ll see the seatbelt signs are on, and we anticipate wheels down in 13 minutes.”

“No more work,” Cat finishes for James when the Colonel is done. “You’ve earned this break, and so have I. Get out of town this weekend, or don’t leave your apartment. Either way, forget that I’m your boss and that we’ve got a country to run. Let’s have someone else take the watch, okay?”

James nods, settling back in his seat and gripping the armrests a little too hard. He never has enjoyed flying in all the time he’s been on Cat’s staff. 

“Twelve minutes,” Cat sighs, checking her watch. They can’t pass fast enough.

***

Kara is halfway out of the car when she hears the roar of the jet engines, and she hurries towards the hangar door to watch the plane land. She loves flying, loves everything about it, and it’s a nerdy little dream of hers to be around Air Force One, and apparently Marine One in short order. 

It’s impressive to be this close to the runway, Secret Service agents within arm’s reach, but she’s finally been able to send her oppressive security detail back to Metropolis and L-Corp, since Mike had failed the background check for presidential access. She can see what Cat means about almost forgetting the agents are there. There are Air Force personnel around in uniform, but they seem concerned only with the plane and getting the ground equipment in place. 

“Kara!” Carter emerges from a gaggle of agents, some handheld game still gripping most of his attention. “Mom told me you were coming for the weekend.”

“I hope that’s cool, buddy. I know you don’t get her to yourself very often.”

Carter shrugs. “This way she won’t start trying to pretend she knows the name of Pokémon and stuff, so it’s probably better. Anyway, you… y’know.”

“I what?” Kara can’t help pressing, just a little. They stand together in the midst of all the steady agents and bustling military people, a little oasis of calm and chatter. She takes in the reddish curls, the shy smile that’s so like Cat’s. He seems taller than when Kara last saw him, which is probably just exaggeration. It’s getting ahead of herself, miles and miles ahead, but Kara considers the word _stepson_ , rolls it silently on her tongue. Would he accept that? 

Kara is used to family being a fluid concept, something that expands and contracts with love and loss alike. She’s never had to make those adjustments in the public eye, like Carter has and continues to do. Would it be too much to ask of him? Wh

Besides, it’s not like anything so official is on the agenda, not while Cat remains in the White House. Which she’s going to, if Kara has anything to do with it. They’re not so far from the New Hampshire and Iowa filing deadlines already, and _God_ when did that become something that Kara cares about so much?

Thankfully Cat arrives in her usual stormcloud of people, saving Kara from her own train of thought. Any awkwardness over what she’d been thinking evaporates as she watches Cat scoop Carter into a crushing hug, even as he quietly protests that _people can see us, Mom_. Watching them reconnect is like watching pain drain away from Cat with every second she holds her son. Kara’s been so busy missing her girlfriend, she didn’t really consider how hard it might be for Cat to miss her and Carter all at once. 

Either way, Kara is glad when Carter wriggles free and pushes his mother in Kara’s direction. They collide gently, the briefest tangle of a hug and a kiss that doesn’t get to last, even though it promises much more to come.

“In case of stray press,” Cat murmurs by way of apology. “Right, are we ready for Marine One?”

Carter groans as they head towards the waiting helicopter, massive and resplendent in its dark green with a white roof. Kara feels a little giddy all over again at the thought of getting to ride in it, even more so when Cat takes her hand for the rest of the walk to it. 

“Ready for a whole weekend together? Camp David’s pretty nice, you know.”

“Oh sure, I go all the time,” Kara lies with no small amount of glee. “Sure, some say it’s not the same since they stopped burning Congressmen in effigy, but I’ve always liked it.”

“Are you two going to be like this the whole time?” Carter asks, pushing past to take his preferred seat in front of the main cabin. This way he can watch the pilot the whole time. 

“Yes,” Kara answers, pleased when Cat responds in unison. They smile, settling into their surprisingly comfortable seats, and wait for takeoff.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camp David, and what feels like a fleeting moment of peace.

Cat is itching to be out of the helicopter way before it lands. Camp David has been one of her favorite parts of the presidency, not just for her own selfish reasons, but largely because it’s one place Carter can completely relax. The presence of other people is minimal, and they’ve had some of their best companionable quiet time in these woods. 

Only Kara’s hand in hers stops Cat from barking at the agents to get them disembarked quicker. The endless checks are routine and necessary, but just for once Cat would like to move at a regular human pace. It’s either being rushed by a pack of agents, or waiting around in one secure spot before getting clearance to move to the next. 

After almost two weeks of constant intrusion, of being _on_ in a way that exhausts Cat even at her most extroverted, it’s a particular cruelty to be kept waiting for this stretch of time with just Kara and Carter for company.

The door slides open, just as Kara leans in to kiss Cat on the cheek. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

Yes. Alone time. _Soon._

“You’re something of a sight for sore eyes yourself, Kara Danvers,” Cat replies, smiling at Carter as he mutters on his way past them, jumping out onto the grass on those legs that seem to grow longer by the hour. He’s already gaining on his mother, and Cat is oddly pleased that he seems to be taking his father’s height. The usual pang of missing Robert doesn’t come, Cat is startled to notice. The wave of guilt over it comes in swift and hard instead. 

There’s the smaller scale chaos of getting everyone loaded into the golf carts, staff scurrying with the modest number of bags, so many already sorted by Siobhan to go back to the Residence. Cat might be a clothes horse, but she could never keep track of the myriad outfits and accessories without an assistant that sharp. Even the fashion editors have been kind. So far. 

Then the cabin door closes and it’s just the three of them. Kara is looking around in that wide-eyed wonder, and Carter is desperately trying to stifle a yawn. 

“Anyone hungry?” Cat asks, not missing how two sets of eyes light up. “Grilled cheese it is, then. Wine?” She asks Kara, only for Carter to respond with a solemn, “yes please.” 

“Just for that you’re showing Kara around, young man.” Cat makes her way to the well-equipped kitchen, pleased by the chatter that fades as Carter and Kara explore the other rooms. She isn’t entirely surprised to see that Annie, the resident cook, is waiting by the stove, flipping through a copy of Good Housekeeping.

“Madam President, I know we’re all but cleared out for the evening, but I remember how teenage boys can be. I just stayed long enough to see if you’d be needing snacks.”

“You’re too good to us, Annie.”

“Maybe so. Grilled cheese and tomato soup for three?” There’s already a pot on the stove, the fixings for the cheese laid out on a marble chopping board. “Wine’s already breathing.”

“They told you I had a guest?” Cat’s a little wary. The staff at the White House are almost undetectable at times, but here everything’s a little more personal.

“Yes,” Annie busies herself with washing her hands, her fiery red hair tucked back in a neat bun. Despite the evening hour, she’s in her kitchen whites with a heavy black apron over them. “For what it’s worth, ma’am… nobody on staff here has even the slightest issue. They wouldn’t need to.”

Cat knows Annie’s oldest son is gay, and that he had a terrible time in high school because of it. It’s why Annie and James had been guests of honor when Cat signed her landmark Equalities Bill into law. 

“It’ll be nice to get away for the weekend,” Cat agrees. “And thank you for saying so. I’m sure you’ll love Kara just as much as everyone else does, and she deserves the peace.”

“ _Everyone_?” There’s a hint of teasing that Cat doesn’t think she’ll indulge just now. 

“I’ll take that wine,” she says instead, swiping the bottle and two waiting glasses. “It’s warm enough for the terrace, still?”

“It’s going to rain any minute,” Annie says. “But I’ll have breakfast out there in the morning, if it’s dry enough.”

“Hey,” Kara interrupts from the doorway. “Carter said it’s PJ time, so he’s getting changed. I thought I’d wait for you before I changed, though.”

“Kara, this is Annie. She’s about to make the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had.”

Kara comes into the kitchen to shake hands, blushing when her stomach grumbles at the sight of food being prepared. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Ms Danvers. There’s no dress code here, though, so you can go get those pajamas. I’ll have supper ready before you fade away completely.”

“Yes, come along Kara,” Cat urges. “I’ll show your our room, since I’m sure Carter left it off the tour.”

“He did,” Kara says, with a grin. They leave the wine on the living room table, meaning Cat has her hands free again to lead Kara to their bedroom. 

“Now, try not to be put off by the couples who’ve stayed here before,” Cat warns. “I had all the furniture in here replaced before my first trip, so it’s basically a blank slate.” Rain starts to fall, spattering the windows. 

Kara steps into the room then, closing the door behind her. Without a word passing between them, she has Cat pressed against the wall, finally claiming the kiss they’ve been pining for since Air Force One touched down. Cat knows she’s showing her hand too much, kissing a little too hungrily, but damn if Kara doesn’t kiss back with the same urgency. 

They’re halfway to indecent when they hear the thud of Carter’s footsteps in the hall outside. 

“Pajamas,” Cat gathers herself enough to instruct, gesturing to their bags. “I’m going to assume you brought at least one family friendly option.”

Kara pulls white cotton from her bag, emblazoned with what appears to be tiny cartoon sushi. Well. It’s a look. Cat rolls her eyes and selects navy silk from her own bag. They change quickly, not making eye contact. Right up until Kara starts fiddling with her bra clasp. 

“I never… it’s okay, right?”

“It’ll be distracting, but fine,” Cat decides to ditch her own underwear in turn, the black lace picked out specially that morning, a few timezones ago. 

“And don’t worry, I brought some way less PG options for your benefit,” Kara teases. She moves around the bed to where Cat’s standing, all feigned innocence as she starts to help with the buttons on the pajama jacket. Which, of course, leads to hands wandering over bared skin, and another searing kiss that actually leaves Cat feeling a little dizzy. It would be so easy to-

“Mom! Annie’s got food!”

“Come on,” Cat says, finishing the buttons in a lopsided fashion. “The sooner we eat, the sooner he’ll be ready to sleep. And then I’ll finally have you all to myself.”

“I think I’ll like that,” Kara agrees, before patting her stomach. “But yeah, let’s go. What if Carter eats it all?” 

Cat follows her out, grinning like a lovesick fool the whole way. 

***

Camp David, it turns out, is like something out of a dream. The acres of nature make Kara feel like she’s back in her original home of Midvale, where she knew every hiking trail and shallow rock pool like the back of her hand. Of course the terrain here is far more cultivated, the paths are scoped out with an eye to security and visibility, but Kara soon learns that it’s one place where the Secret Service detail can give a wide berth. 

It particularly helps that Camp David was left off Cat’s schedule until a very late amendment, meaning that while the press are aware of it, and anyone who has the particular motivation to demand the president’s public schedule, it isn’t mentioned in any of the major filings for the weekend papers.

Kara was even more relieved when, over supper, Cat asked Annie to hold back everything but the Times all weekend, then held her hands out for Carter and Kara alike to surrender their tablets and phones. Sam has custody of them now, with a strict set of instructions when they can be returned to any of the three of them, but Kara has to admit that after the first hours of withdrawal, it’s the most relaxed she’s been in weeks. Months, possibly.

Well, the hours spent last night thoroughly rediscovering every inch of Cat’s body, and being utterly ravaged in return, those might have helped with the relaxation too. Kara’s pleasantly sore in any number of places, but nothing a few stretches won’t work out.

Saturday has dawned bright and misty, practically begging them to get outside in sensible clothing. Cat is already gone from the bed, but Kara knows the hours she’s used to. Okay, it’s a little disappointing that Cat isn’t in the huge shower that Kara checks first, but it’s still a very pleasant way to freshen up for the day ahead.

Kara dresses quickly as ever, pulling on skinny jeans that she just happens to know look great with her favorite hiking boots. She isn’t enough of a rookie to risk breaking in new boots on an important weekend like this, so her well-loved pair will have to do. Finishing off with a couple of very light layers, she pulls her new navy plaid shirt on, pleased with how well it sits once she buttons it up. 

Not that there’ll be photographers today, but Kara’s getting used to dressing as though there will be. She’s heading out to the terrace and the promise of breakfast when Sam intercepts. The agents aren’t in suits up here, but the country casuals look just emphasizes how much heat they’re packing. 

“I know you said only your sister, but Lena Luthor’s called so many times the phone is threatening to melt. You want to take the call?”

“Sure,” Kara accepts her handset back, only a little disappointed at the interruption. “I’ve been kind of ducking her since the whole paparazzi thing.” 

Sam gives a little shrug like _that’s your business, ma’am_ and Kara continues out to the terrace. Carter is nowhere in evidence, but the pool is occupied by a very determined looking Cat in a sleek black one-piece. The back of which dips very, very low. Kara almost forgets how to answer her phone when it rings again.

“Lena?”

“Kara, Mike showed up here last night and told me you’d fired him. What is going on?”

“I didn’t fire him, but I don’t need a security team this weekend. What I gave him is two days off. Unless things have died down by Monday, for me.”

“So where are you this weekend?” Lena sounds a little put out that Kara hasn’t given specifics. While the private security went a long way to helping Kara out, she still hasn’t forgotten how few people were in a position to officially out them to the press. “If you’re at a loose end, with the girlfriend off around the world, I could hop the jet and be down for lunch.”

“No, I have plans.” Kara manages to get all of those words out despite the view of Cat starting to leverage herself out of the pool. There’s no hope for any following thoughts as she strides across the blue tile towards Kara on the terrace, dripping quite happily with a lot of skin on display. Idly, Kara does form the thought that she should find out who made that skimpy piece of black fabric and write the designer a thank you note. “Listen, I know we’re overdue for a catchup, but I’m swamped today. My bill is three votes away from a huge milestone. _Don’t_ mention that to your mother, okay?”

“Scout’s honor,” Lena insists. “Wait, is the reason you’re so flighty lately that you think I am telling her things? No, it would have to be more than that. You know I avoid my mother at all costs. Kara, do you think I tipped off the paparazzi?”

A few years ago Kara might have dismissed that with a nervous laugh and a blustering “What? No!” Today she opts for a steely moment of silence, watching Cat approach her, being emboldened by a new kiss on the cheek. “I don’t know, Lena. Did you?”

“Oh, I get it. Luthor by name, Luthor by… well, I didn’t expose you. I’d say I’m offended that you even thought it, but I guess I’m not exactly surprised.”

“Lena, wait-”

Cat quirks an eyebrow at that, pulling on a robe over her wet swimsuit. Kara can’t help but pout at the cover up. 

“No, we’ll talk when you’ve worked out who your friends really are. Good luck with your secret weekend date, okay?” With that, Lena hung up, not giving Kara a chance to put things right.

“Now you see why I gave the phones away,” Cat says, drying her hair with a towel that bears the seal of the president. Kara grins at the branding, before darting back inside for a moment, handing her phone back to Sam. 

“It’s fine,” she insists, sitting next to Cat at the long wooden table and nudging close enough to claim a fairly chaste kiss. “I missed you when I woke up.”

“Couldn’t resist the outdoor pool.” Cat gestures vaguely, as though Kara hadn’t stared every second since spotting Cat in the water. “It’s not exactly my rooftop one in National City, but I grew up in a climate colder than this. It’s just warm enough to be classed as invigorating. Did you bring a suit?”

Kara shakes her head. No one had mentioned it.

“Ordinarily I’d suggest skinny dipping tonight, but…”

“Morning, Mom! Kara.” Carter arrives almost as if on cue, plopping down into a chair on the other side of the table. “I slept for, like, a hundred hours.”

Annie appears with a huge breakfast trolley that doesn’t look much inclined to move. Still, it trundles across the decking until the amazing scents of bacon and maple syrup start tickling Kara’s nose. 

“Tell me you’re not a vegetarian, dear,” Annie says, lifting covered plates onto the table. Carter scrambles to help, lifting a jug of orange juice and a steaming pot of coffee and placing them next to his mother. The boy is clearly well-trained in that one respect. It’s the height of chivalry that Cat pours coffee into Kara’s waiting mug first. 

“Oh no,” Kara says. “I try to be, I really do. Meatless Mondays, the whole deal. I just can’t quite get all the way to quitting.”

“Much like Madam President here with her cigarettes,” Annie says, a twinkle in her eye.

“You smoke?” Kara asks, a little confused. She’s never smelled even the hint of smoke on Cat.

“Only when exceptionally stressed,” Cat admits. “About once a year, if that. A girl has to have some vices. And I didn’t have you pegged for a tattle-tale, Annie.”

“Keeps you on your toes, ma’am.” Annie sets down the last of the condiments and starts wheeling the trolley away. “Enjoy. I want to see cleared plates when I return.”

“This is amazing,” Kara blurts, looking at the spread of pancakes, waffles, bacon and sausage. There are eggs, some home fries and various pots of things that smell delicious. “On a Saturday I’m usually lucky to get something from the juice bar round the corner before it’s into lunchtime.”

“I thought you runners were always up at the crack of dawn?” Cat helps herself to a single pancake and a slice of bacon. 

“Not on a Saturday,” Kara says with a shake of her head. “So what’s the plan for today?”

“Well, mom will make us go hiking,” Carter answers. “Then when she remembers two miles in that she hates nature, we’ll probably come right back here for board games and barbecue. Are we having barbecue this time?”

“Maybe,” Cat says, sipping at her coffee. “But since Kara is our guest, maybe we should _ask_ what she wants to do, instead of telling her. I’m President, not dictator-for-life.”

“Yeah, you say that now, but when I haven’t done my English homework…” Carter gives a dramatic sigh, but he winks at Kara. “Is it okay if I get some Carter time today? When you’re away everyone checks on me so much, and grandma wasn’t exactly thrilled to be around full-time, either.”

“She never is,” Cat says with a snort, nudging Kara to fill her plate. “But I understand, darling. As much as I want to steal every second I can with you, we both know recharging is important.”

“Plus, it means you can make out with Kara.” Carter shoves an entire sausage patty in his mouth, stifling a laugh. 

“We could do that right now,” Cat reminds him, leaning in to a more than willing Kara, only to pull back at the last second. “So be warned.”

“Hiking sounds great,” Kara finally interjects, before they get caught up in more teasing. “So does barbecue and board games. I warn you, though. I get pretty wild at Pictionary.”

Cat squeezes Kara’s leg under the table as they all laugh together, and it’s such a perfect moment Kara wishes she could click her fingers and freeze it for the whole weekend. 

“I’m going to get ready,” Cat says, having barely picked at her breakfast. “You two, eat up. Do Annie proud.”

“Need a hand?” Kara asks quietly. “I can bring breakfast.”

Cat shakes her head, already in motion. “I won’t be long. Hope you’re ready for a good hike by the time I come back.”

“We will be,” Carter answers for them both. 

***

It’s mid-afternoon when Carter finally peels away from them. Cat bites back her clingiest instincts, the constant balancing act of any working single parent with a teenage son. She lets him go off to his room with his headphones and a phone firmly in airplane mode, and he gives her a hug before he goes. That’s about as good as she can hope for.

At least she’s not left to her own devices. Kara is waiting with two mugs of coffee, and on first sip Cat is pleased to note that it’s been spiked. Raising an eyebrow in question, she just gets a soft laugh from Kara. 

“We’re basically on vacation.” Kara takes a hearty mouthful of hers, after flopping down on the tragic but comfortable floral sofa that takes up a corner of the room. She’s had the foresight to pick out a book, some frothy bestseller that Cat has a vague notion of claiming she’s read, in some interview or other. It allows her to delve into her magazine stash, coming out with two Economists and a New Yorker, downright balanced by her standards.

They trade lazy kisses when Cat first sits down, before arranging themselves in mutually accommodating reading positions. There’s a fascinating cover piece on Russia’s economy that soon has Cat engrossed, but she’s always a little bit aware of Kara’s hand resting on her thigh, warm and steady through the denim.

“This is nice,” Kara says after a long quiet stretch. “Of all the things I’ve imagined, I think something like this was the least likely.”

“It’s a change from constant interruptions, that’s for sure,” Cat agrees. “Though I’m missing my white noise. I usually have at least one screen in the background, and it’s beyond tempting to unearth the television remote.”

“To see Max Lord trashing us again?” Kara asks, not making eye contact. “I’ll pass. Although I am still going after him for the emissions bill. You’d better practice your handshake, you know. I’m only three votes away from my end of the bargain.”

Cat’s stomach sinks, and the words on the page swim in front of her eyes. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, I got-”

“Have you…” Cat interrupts, before realizing she shouldn’t. “Never mind, no shop talk on our weekend away.”

“No come on,” Kara sits up straighter. “What were you going to ask.”

“I was just going to ask if you’re keeping an eye on your backyard. God knows how many bills we’ve had locked and loaded only for someone who swore fealty to change his mind without telling anyone. At least, until it was too late.”

“Cat… is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No, I just… I’m a little jaded, Kara. Forgive me. We can’t all be Sunny Danvers when it comes to the Beltway.”

“Well, we’re going to do a good thing.” Kara lifts Cat’s right hand and kisses it tenderly over the knuckles. “And we’re going to do it together. Might even help with the whole ‘President has a girlfriend’ situation, right?”

“Right,” Cat agrees, though the word sounds hollow. “Now come on, enjoy your downtime. This weekend will be over before we know it.”

As the afternoon keeps ticking past, Cat can’t help glancing at Kara, lost in her book all over again. Please God, Cat thinks, though she hasn’t prayed in a decade at least. Please, let the weekend be the only thing that ends. 

Sensing her attention, Kara gives her a distracted little smile. Cat sinks back into her magazine, and the calm before what seems increasingly like an inevitable storm. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What comes after their blissful escape to Camp David...?

“I’m sorry about the separate trips,” Cat says, dislodging Kara from her reverie of stroking strands of Cat’s hair. “I wasn’t thinking about this morning. About the visuals.”

“It’s fine,” Kara reassures, keeping her voice soft. “I mean, not for the environment, but it’s not such a long drive. I’ve got plenty of work to keep me busy.”

“I’d like it,” Cat says, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’d like to step off onto the lawn with you on my arm, and Carter running ahead… we’re just…”

“Not there yet,” Kara finishes, kissing Cat’s eyelids in turn, waiting for them to open again. “I do understand, you know.”

Cat kisses her, the pressure of her lips teasing, drawing Kara into deepening it. “We should get up,” she whines softly when the kiss ends. “You’ll have to make an earlier start to be in the office for a decent time.”

“Let’s do this again, when we get a chance,” Kara says. “It doesn’t have to be here, exactly. But the peace, the lack of cameras… you need this every so often, don’t forget that.”

“You’re looking after me,” Cat replies, but she’s smiling as she sits up against the pillows. “It’s been a while since anyone tried that.”

“What can I say? You bring out the urge in me,” Kara says with a smile. “And that’s not even true, is it? Siobhan is like assistant, wife, and mother all in one. Be sure to thank her for picking out that swimsuit, by the way.”

“She’ll be thrilled, I’m sure.”

“So we’re getting up?” Kara tests by lifting the sheets.

“Well, maybe not quite yet,” Cat decides, pulling Kara close once more.

***

Landing on the White House lawn does make for a pleasantly short commute, Cat has to admit. Siobhan didn’t give options for office wear, perhaps assuming Cat would return to the residence first. Still, it’s nice to be back in something picked out for fashion rather than from one of Siobhan’s endless binders. The teal pantsuit is perfectly appropriate paired with a silky black shift, and the time in the pool has brightened Cat’s blonde hair somewhat too. If she looks as rested as she feels, it’s going to be quite obvious why. She can’t quite bring herself to care. 

She gets all of fifteen minutes in the Oval before Senior Staff descend, enough time to wave Carter off to Monday morning school, and to sift through the few overnight messages that were deemed important enough for her desk. There’s trouble brewing in Chad, and some seismic activity that might affect Haiti, as though they haven’t been through enough. Cat makes a note to get updates throughout the day from the respective State Department officials. 

That’s the last coherent thought she’s allowed before organized chaos descends, Hank coming in from his office adjacent to her own, and the rest of the Senior Staff dutifully trooping in past Siobhan’s desk. They line up in front of her desk, the routine all but choreographed by now. There’s a distinct lack of eye contact, even during the obligatory “good morning, Madam President”s. 

Cat gestures for them to sit, but nobody moves. Since they won’t take advantage of the elegant couches, she stays seated behind her desk, steepling her fingers in anticipation for whichever bombshell they’re about to unleash. 

“Ma’am,” Winn speaks up, and that’s unexpected in itself. It smacks of rehearsal, even though his voice is still almost squeaky with nerves. “We have some fresh polling data.”

She sits forward, and the abruptness of it makes them flinch. “I wasn’t aware any polls were due today. The ones I requested won’t be ready until…”

“Friday, that’s right,” Winn agrees. He fiddles with his burgundy tie, clashing horribly with his dark brown shirt. “This was a poll we decided as, uh…”

“I made the request,” Lucy supplies, and Cat gives her only a flicker of a glance, having suspected as much. “I identified some crucial gaps in previous polls and had Winn adjust accordingly.”

No, they’re not getting away with this. Cat will fire them all before she’ll allow them to do this to her, while she rests there in the ultimate seat of power. She won’t be held hostage to emotion the way all her opponents claimed a woman would be. Her strikes will be clinical, effective-”

“We polled on Kara,” Hank adds.

“ _We?”_ Cat feels the betrayal like a skewer through her heart. “So help me, Hank. I was prepared to write this off as youthful idealism, but you’re taking responsibility for this?”

“They’re my team,” he answers. “I chose them all for a reason, and I stand by the work they’ve done.”

“And what work might that be?” 

Cat thinks they might actually chicken out, but then Lucy opens the folder she’s carrying and approaches the desk.

“These are just a sample of the headlines and articles that have been kept from your press packs in recent weeks. I think you have to see them, Madam President, to fully appreciate the context of what we have to tell you.”

Cat looks just long enough to see the slurs with their asterisks, even though the people who are too offended to read those works apparently have no problem being the one to say them in the first place. Her heart sinks at the thought of Kara seeing some of these, and how someone should have been protecting her just like the staff have been. Before the trip, the press coverage had been getting to Kara, and it’s no wonder looking at all this.

Her secure phone pings, with perfect timing. _One vote away! Get ready to hustle some Senators!_ Kara has hit the ground running, then. 

“So what’s my approval rating?” She snaps. “I don’t care about the gaudy little specifics you’ve polled, about who’s on top or whether the President’s girlfriend straps it on for her…” There’s some satisfaction in watching them squirm. “Let me guess, there’s a large number of straight men who’d be just fine with it, if only they could watch?”

A guilty glance between Winn and Lucy. They’ve actually asked it, or something close to it. 

“Approval rating, then you can all go.”

“Madam President-” Hank begins, but Lucy falls on the grenade one more time, interrupting him.

“You built a company from scratch, never outsourcing even when you opened foreign offices. You were Governor of the fifth largest economy in the world, and a proud Californian. You raised a son and you’re the widow of an Air Force veteran. So what does it say, ma’am, that when polled this week, 53% of the people are questioning your patriotism?”

Ridiculous. Who she sleeps with is as American as everything else about her. That means only 47 favorable. Surely the averages will pull that back up? She’s just had an excellent trip to the Far East, with massive wins on trade and security. 

“It says people should watch less FOX News, as usual,” Cat attempts to dismiss, but she squares her shoulders ready for the fight. 

“Madam President, we had a broad range of questions, but there are some numbers that we think you need to hear. Like, despite favourables in the high 70s and 80s during the campaign, only 50% of Americans now consider you to be a ‘good’ mother. People are worried about Carter, what all this extra press might be doing to him. Or Kara’s influence on him.”

Cat realizes then there’s a reason she keeps her desks so clear. Years ago she favored trinkets: impressive paperweights and sometimes a heavy vase of flowers. Now, there isn’t so much as a stapler to hand. Which is just as well for the people on the other side of her desk, because rarely has she wanted to lash out more. If the phones weren’t so flimsy and plastic she might go full Russell Crowe.

“How _dare_ you?” She hisses, even as the rational part of her brain is protesting that James is just the messenger. “How dare they? To presume to know how skilled I am as a parent? To think they know my son better than I do based on a few, what? Press shots of him beside me?”

“Ma’am-” Winn takes his turn, no doubt preparing some other polling _seppuku_ to impale himself on. 

“This meeting is over. Get out.”

“Not yet, Madam President.” Hank steps forward, a human shield for his troops. “The Majority Whip had some news.”

“And?”

“Lillian Luthor isn’t staying out of it. She’s whipping votes to beat your gun ban. Says it’s important the executive branch doesn’t get everything they want.”

“She’s been saying that every year there isn’t a Republican in office.”

“If we’re going to start climbing in the polls, we need the gun bill. There’s more leverage in it with the public, no one gives a damn about environmental policy. If we kill the environment legislation, Luthor will back off and let the gun bill through. We checked.”

“Hank, no. We promised.”

He shakes his head. “Ma’am-”

“She’s so _close_ Hank, I just got a text saying she’s one away from the goal we set, and we can turn the rest easily from here.”

“You meant the bill, right Madam President?” Lucy interjects, and her gaze isn’t irritated or disappointed this time. The flicker of fire about her is anger, pure and simple. “The environment bill’s so close? To passing?”

“Lucy-”

“You wouldn’t be skewing the entire legacy of your presidency, of the first time a woman held this office, to keep your bit on the side happy, would you?” Lucy voices cracks, just a little. 

Hank steps in, trying to call it before the knockout lands. “That’s enough. We can advise the president, but she doesn’t answer to us.”

“Oh yes she does,” Lucy says, drawing herself up straight. “Yes, Madam President, you do. Just as Maxwell Lord will, or anyone else who inherits this job from you. If you want my vote, I deserve transparency. Honesty, above all.”

“Then honestly,” Cat replies. “Don’t ever speak about her that way again. You, my staff, don’t get to talk about her that way.”

“That’s the most common term used for her, did you know that? ‘Bit on the side’. You’ve never told them otherwise.” James steps in, always leaping to Lucy’s defense when she doesn’t entirely need it. “That’s in the polling too. And the reason…” He falters, clearing his throat. “The reason for that is that people are being led by what Maxwell Lord is calling her. They’re listening to his names and his cheap jibes, and they’re believing that’s the whole story.”

“You don’t give the American people enough credit,” Cat scoffs. “Most people are fundamentally decent, and they realize this is none of their business.”

“Madam President, with all due respect-”

“You can keep your respect, Lucy. I don’t need it.” 

“With all due respect, this is not the Cat Grant I know. This is not the woman who forced her way into the boys’ club of media moguls. The Cat Grant who governed California, who ran for President and triumphed in a vicious campaign, and who did all that with grace despite personal heartbreak…” Lucy almost runs out of steam. “That’s the woman I voted for. The woman I’ve been proud to serve. But this person? Who won’t even stand up for the woman she cares about, or answer to the voters who elected her? I don’t recognize her at all.”

Cat barely absorbs the blow. She might even take a step back. 

“You know,” she says, gathering herself as her mind races. “My mother once gave me a piece of advice, when I was younger and trying to take over the world before I could even walk in heels. She said, “Kitty, stop trying to do too much. You can have it all, just not all at once, and not right away.”

“Ma’am-” 

Hank must know how bad it is if she’s invoking her mother, but Cat sees now that she’s been trying to have it all her own way, and achieving nothing in the process. She loves Kara, after the weekend she’s more certain of that than ever. 

But she loves her country too, and she swore an oath to it. Progress on guns, even at the cost of the environment, is progress. It’s an achievement that will form part of her legacy, something she has to consider more seriously now Max Lord is trying to snatch a second term away from her. 

“Hank, make the call,” she says. “Tell Lillian Luthor we’ll spike the environment bill if she gets us the gun votes. I want that bill out of committee before the week is out, am I clear? Now I’m needed in the Sit Room.”

Nobody replies as Cat gathers up the few papers she has to hand and marches towards the door. As ever, the agents are ready to fall into formation, since she is actually due for a meeting down there. 

No one could stop her if she redirected to the residence, opted to hide out there all day and marshall her defenses. Unfortunately, Cat has never run from a fight in her life, and has no idea how to really start now.

The secure cell in her pocket weighs heavy, a rock that would drown her given half the chance. A better woman, on a better day, would take it out and at least issue a warning text. Something, anything, to prepare Kara for what happens now. 

All too quickly, Cat is face-to-face with her Chairwoman of the Joint Chiefs, and the phone stays put, untouched.

***

“Nice weekend?” Astra asks from the door of Kara’s office, making her jump. At some point in her life, Kara’s aunt learned stealth mode in heels, and it’s been bad news for nervous people ever since. A glance at the clock on her laptop tells Kara she should have had lunch hours ago.

“Yes, thank you,” Kara answers, slipping her phone off to one side of her desk. “And not to toot my own horn, but I got in this morning from Camp David, to discover I’m within one vote. My team are hustling hard, and I think I’ll get someone off the fence before EOB today.”

“Kara.” Astra comes the rest of the way in and shuts the door behind her without being invited. “I’ve just had a call from a contact I trust. Someone who doesn’t work with us publicly, but who believes in our work. He says we have a problem that you don’t know about.”

“What? That’s _not_ possible.” Kara ignores the pang of doubt deep in her chest. “I told you, I’m one vote away from the White House stepping in to get us over the line.”

“The White House isn’t what it was, when it comes to the final push,” Astra says, and Kara can see then how severe she looks, with her hair tightly tied back, her eyeliner a little darker than usual. “Their approval rating-”

“Is just a number,” Kara interrupts. “They’re still in power. They’ll get this done.”

“My contact says you need to check your backyard. That you don’t have the votes you think you do.”

“But how…” Kara is already pulling up her spreadsheet, ready to target her weaker spots. “Never mind, I’ll get anyone who wanders back in line. Anything else?”

Astra shakes her head, turning to leave. She hesitates, before facing Kara again.

“The White House did some polling, they used an external firm as usual. Only this time it was rushed so they went to someone new. There are leaks, hitting the news sites this afternoon. I’m told some of the questions are about you.”

“Cat would never allow that,” Kara scoffs, but there’s that pang again. It’s not unheard of that Cat wouldn’t reply, but it has been any number of hours on what outwardly seems like a peaceful day at the White House. “She wouldn’t, okay? Let me get all this straightened out, you’ll see. Too many rumors, Aunt Astra.”

“They’re not rumors in DC, Kara,” her aunt corrects. “They’re currency.”

By the time Astra takes her leave, Kara already has three new tabs open, searching her name on the major news outlets and Twitter. Sure enough, breaking stories start to pop up on each refresh. Kara checks her phone screen again. Nothing. Not one message, or attempt to call. 

Amongst it all she sees something unexpected: Senators Luthor and Lord have announced a joint press conference for 5pm. That can’t be good. In a Cardassians allying with the Dominion kind of way.

She’s getting too used to this, having her day and her life turned upside down. Kara has her purse repacked and is on her way to get her car within a minute. If she can at least get home before the story properly breaks, it might not be so bad this time. 

The whole way home she wants to flip on the radio, see what these polling numbers say about her, about whether she’s good enough for Cat. But the phone still hasn’t rung, and there’s only one voice Kara wants to hear right now.

There doesn’t seem to be anyone around by the time she parks her car and slips in through the side entrance of her building. Kara switches on the TV and opens her laptop, grabbing a bag of chips and a fresh bottle of wine. 

Something tells her this might be a bit of a rough night. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Cat's political decisions, and the media getting hold of the polling on Kara...

“Kara!”

The whisper-yell isn’t entirely effective, but Kara’s always had a keen sense of hearing. There’s a mumbled conference, so Alex has brought at least one person with her. Astra is the last person on the planet Kara wants to face right now, but she has called in sick for the first time in her professional life. 

The knocking persists, and if nothing else it’s going to draw attention from whichever reporters they sneaked past. Kara gives up, kicking off her favorite blanket and shuffling towards the door on bare feet. Giving a vague brush at her pajamas, it gets the worst of the Cheeto dust off, but there’s not much to do about the rest of her.

“There you are!” Lena greets her, dressed like she’s just stepped out of the boardroom as ever. Next to her, Alex stands in tactical gear, which possibly explains how they got past the scrum. It’s a regular Coachella in her hallway though, because behind them stand Astra, stern as ever, and Lucy Lane from the White House. 

“Clearly, I’m not in the mood for company you guys,” Kara protests, trying to close the door on them again, but Alex is too quick for that, wedging a combat boot in the way before Kara gives up and lets them all descend on her apartment. She quickly gathers up the pizza boxes and empty ice cream bowls. Lena joins in, despite her immaculate clothes, picking up the wine bottles and overused glass. 

“Jesus, Kara,” she protests. “I was prepared to still be mad about you thinking I’d sell you out, but I’m beginning to see how much I underestimated your feelings for that woman.”

“By ‘that woman’ you mean _President_ Grant,” Kara gently chides. “Don’t you all let your protectiveness of me affect the respect afforded the office, you guys.”

“Always the politics nerd,” Alex sighs. “Don’t worry, we’re not staging a coup just yet. Unless you want us to?”

“Hey, Danvers!” Lucy protests, putting her hands over her ears. “Not even in jest, okay?”

“You two know each other?” Kara looks between the two women, noting how Astra is practically glued to Alex’s side.

“It’s a small town,” Alex answers with a shrug.

“So why is your boss letting Kara twist in the wind like this?” Astra demands as soon as Lucy puts her hands down. “It’s not bad enough she sold out the environmental lobby, but the polling data leaked too? My niece is not an opinion piece, she’s a person.”

“Hey, nobody is sorrier than I am about that.” Lucy stands straight, squaring her shoulders in the stiff navy blue blazer she’s wearing. “Ms. Danvers I owe you an apology. I’m the one who pushed for those invasive questions, but my only goal was to make the President deal with reality when it comes to you, and your relationship. We’ve had some words, up at the White House, but I see now that I didn’t consider your feelings or even your safety in all this.”

“Did the president… did Cat send you?” Kara has to know. It’s far from perfect, but it’s something.

Only Lucy shakes her head, so actually it’s more like _nothing_.

“My sister is a reporter. She wants to write a scorched earth kind of piece condemning the way the media have treated you. It’ll take some of the heat off, before the gun bill starts dominating the news cycle.”

“The gun bill that my sources tell me just dropped the assault weapons section to appease Lillian Luthor?” Astra interjects. “No offense, Ms Luthor, but your mother is a legislative pain in my ass.”

Lucy’s shoulders drop. She’s barely holding it together, Kara realizes. It feels like looking at her funhouse mirror reflection somehow. Lena deflects attention by answering.

“Trust me, she’s a lot more than that. I understand her distaste for the environmental bill nuked that too. She’s never happier than when she has the White House over a barrel. You shouldn’t take defeat personally, Ms Lane. This is a bloodsport to my mother.”

“I think we can all skip to first names,” Alex speaks up. “This formality sounds weird when Kara has Cheeto dust in her hair.”

“Thanks,” Kara snorts, brushing idly at her hair. “Listen, you don’t have to worry about me. Lucy, I appreciate the apology. Lena, your mother has _never_ been your fault. I’m just sorry I doubted you.” She pauses for breath. “Astra, I’m sorry I let you down, and my resignation is already in your inbox.”

“Kara, wait-”

“You need it to happen, so don’t worry about me. I’m going to head back to Metropolis and run Congresswoman Morzz’s campaign. I have a standing offer, and we’ve worked well together before.”

“You’re running away?” Alex is the one who says it, and that Kara does not expect. “Seriously? You take the L and you move on, Kara. You don’t slink back to Metropolis with your tail between your legs.”

“It’s not _running_.” Kara looks to the others for support, but nobody speaks up from their awkward positions on her living room furniture. “I’ve made a fool of myself, professionally and emotionally. I thought… I was supposed to land this bill, and I believed someone when she said she loved me. Now neither of those things are true, and I don’t want to be followed around by paparazzi while I get over it, okay?”

There’s a flicker from Lucy, but she doesn’t look up. 

“You love her.” Lena is the one to fill in the only blank. “Well, that’s hardly a shock, given you smitten you’ve been…”

“Lena, I’m sorry, it’s not-”

A wave of Lena’s hand silences her. Kara’s hand moves instinctively to her neck, because fussing with her necklace usually makes her feel more grounded. It was her mother’s, a simple drop pendant on a silver chain. Only it’s not there, and in fact Kara can’t remember the last time she actually wore it. She hadn’t worn it to Camp David, or any jewelry at all, anticipating metal detectors and other measures that hadn’t come to pass. Somewhere in the process of dating Cat she’s gotten efficient about what she does and doesn’t wear. 

“You guys, I really am fine. I appreciate your checking on me, but I have to get back on my feet by myself. I’m going to take a long shower and get dressed, and start making plans.”

“You want to go for a drink later?” Alex asks. “I don’t like leaving you alone to brood.”

“Maybe,” Kara half-promises. She just wants to go raid her bedroom for the necklace. How can she have been so careless? It’s probably sitting in her jewelry box with a bunch of meaningless trinkets, but she can’t settle until she lays her hands on it. To her relief, they all stand, and with minimal chatter Kara has them all out of the door and sneaking back to their cars. 

With the door closed, she takes off for her bedroom. Not in the jewelry box. Not hanging from the bedpost, her occasional backup option for that one necklace. She checks the nightstand, her drawers, even the dresses hanging in the closet in case it somehow got tangled. Stripping the bed and moving furniture, before long she has to concede that it’s definitely not in the room. 

A cursory sweep of the apartment’s other rooms confirms the same. In the bathroom, it comes to her. Pizza and Colbert at the White House. She’d worn it there, and in the quiet frenzy of Cat taking her to bed that night, with the rage and shame and everything bubbling under the surface, the chain had snagged in Kara’s hair. 

She eyes the shower warily. It really is going to require getting clean and going out there. Maybe she can convince Siobhan to go look for her.

Kara pulls out her phone, ignoring the entry for Cat, _MP._ Instead she pushes on MP Sec and lets it ring as she turns the water on.

Siobhan sounds snappish as ever, so maybe she knows the number on caller display, or maybe that’s just her default. 

“Siobhan,” Kara begins, taking a deep breath. “I need a favor.”

***

Cat takes the stairs to the Residence at a run, not caring if the agents drop off behind her or not. A brief chat with Mrs. Landingham when Siobhan went AWOL has confirmed that she’s up here, with a _guest_. There’s only one guest the staff wouldn’t dare to name today, and Cat is not going to miss her chance to make this right. 

The coverage has been relentless, and horrible, and Cat despairs with each new blow in headline form. Carter is less than thrilled by his sudden screentime ban, but if Cat’s going to disappoint people in every direction, it was inevitable his turn would come. 

She can’t bear her son thinking of her that way, or seeing her compromised and weak in public. Nobody’s happy with the new, amended gun legislation, and suddenly everyone and their wife is out to save the polar bears, which is news to Cat in her twenty years of Democratic politics. 

Not that anyone outside of political circles is talking about anything but the leaked polling data. Bad mother, irresponsible, unpatriotic… all for falling in love. Cat can’t stand the hypocris of five-times married, and many more times adulterous, FOX News hosts calling her a threat to the American family. The placards filled with slurs, the talking heads who ‘just don’t want it shoved in their faces’. 

Cat should have shoved it. She should have taken out three pages in the Times and proclaimed Kara the greatest thing to happen to her in a decade, but political expediency has ruined the approach that made CatCo a global phenomenon. 

Most of all, she should do what she’s doing right now. Find Kara, take her by the hands and tell her in terms so unequivocal as to be something close to gospel, that Cat loves her and doesn’t want to live without her.

Even though she seems to have chosen to do exactly that. 

“Kara?” Cat calls out, starting with the sitting room since the door is open. No sign of her, or Siobhan either. “Kara, are you here?”

Coming back out and rounding the corner, Cat spies her assistant keeping guard at the door of the bedroom. Siobhan opens her mouth, whether to protest or explain, but Cat speeds past her and yanks the door shut behind herself. 

Of all the ways she hoped to find Kara, kneeling on the bed and shaking a pillow didn’t even occur. 

“Kara?”

The shaking continues, one pillow thrown aside and traded for another. Kara’s muttering something under her breath, and there’s an obvious redness around her eyes that says she’s been crying. God knows Cat has too, but the miracle workers who supply her hair and makeup products have something for that. A couple of antihistamines don’t hurt either. 

“Kara?” Cat risks getting closer, feeling off-balance in her heels and fitted skirt suit. It’s too formal for this setting, this place where they’ve been so intimate. “Not to be fussy, but usually when my bedroom gets raided, even the FBI say hello first.”

“The FBI won’t storm the White House. At best you might get subpoenaed.”

“Oh, good note.” Cat is at a loss. “Kara, I know I should have called but-”

“Have you seen my necklace?” Kara clambers off the bed, pushing past Cat to get to the bathroom. 

“Your…”

“Silver, it’s a long chain. I usually wear it under things, I don’t like to… it’s a drop pendant, really simple.”

“Mrs. Landingham says you wanted to sign in as a guest without anyone telling me. Care to share what that’s about?” Cat can hear the pissiness in her voice, but she can’t seem to hold it back. She folds her arms over her chest before thinking better of it. The rattle of bottles and god knows what in the bathroom cabinets continues for a minute. No answer.

“Kara, I just found you tossing my possessions in the late afternoon, dressed like your next stop is either spin class or somewhere selling pints of Ben & Jerry’s, I can’t tell which. So will you please, for the love of sanity, tell me what’s going on? Why are you here? Are you going somewhere that you need this necklace for?”

Kara comes storming back out of the bathroom, stopping a few feet short of Cat. Just out of reach, and seemingly on purpose. 

“God, even for a politician you like the sound of your own voice. I’m going to Metropolis.” 

Cat doesn’t hide her flinch at the tone very well. “And you need a silver chain? I have dozens, help yourself.”

Kara makes a strangled little noise in her throat. “Of course. Everything’s replaceable for you. Have the staff bring up another ten. Why wear silver? Have some diamonds. Stock market tanking? Let’s invade a third-world country.”

“That is _not_ fair, I have never-”

“No, that’s right. You’d care if the stock market plummets. And you only take action for things you care about. Anyone else can just suck it up.”

This isn’t going well. Cat flounders for a way to turn it around. “What’s in Metropolis?”

“Well, they have some galleries, a few museums. Couple of newspapers, and a burgeoning arts scene, you know?”

“Kara-” Somehow the sarcasm is more wounding than direct hostility, and Cat doesn’t know how she’s still standing. 

“A job. Since I just lost my current one.”

“No, Kara. I can talk to your aunt, or go over her head if I have to.”

“Don’t spring into action on my account,” Kara says. “I’m going to work for Congresswoman Morzz. If you don’t remember her, she’s one of those people who pledged to support my environment bill and then _didn’t_ screw me over to suck up to the Luthors.”

“I had to make a choice,” Cat explains. “I didn’t have capital to force both through. The gun bill was more important. My legacy is that gun bill-”

“A gun bill that will achieve almost nothing when it comes to getting military-grade, unnecessary weapons off the streets,” Kara interrupts. “Wow, you must be so proud. Maybe you can build boats out of all the AR-15s when the coasts are underwater.”

God, she’s like her mother when she lectures like that. Cat hadn’t known the judge well, but Alura’s speeches and dissenting opinions were the stuff of legend. And there it is. Hadn’t Kara told her that first night together, when Cat’s fingers idly found the small pendant and toyed with it, that it had been Alura’s in the first place.

“It’s your mother’s necklace,” Cat says. “If you can’t see it then the housekeepers will have put it somewhere safe. You’re sure it was here?”

“It’s not anywhere else,” Kara replies.

“Don’t go to Metropolis,” Cat blurts out in response. “I know I’ve handled this poorly, believe me, Lucy Lane has given me chapter and verse on that.”

“I know, she told me.”

“You’ve spoken to Lucy?” Who’s supposed to be on the Hill, shoring up the last support on the bill.

“Yeah, unlike other people she thought someone who’d been so badly exposed in the press might need to be checked on. I was glad she did.”

“You can get another job here, I can call in some favors,” Cat begins, seizing any slim chance to make it up to Kara.

“Madam President, I don’t think you have the political support you imagine,” Kara corrects. “I have a job offer, and I’m going to take it.”

“What about other lobbying firms?” Cat is desperate now. She’d see Kara working for Big Tobacco before she’d let her leave the city. 

“What qualifications do I present them with? The complete failure to do anything I was supposed to in this last job? Or should I just take all the magazine covers I’ve featured on? No, I’ll leave out the ones that call me a dyke, or worse. Wouldn’t want to give them the wrong impression.”

Cat can’t watch Kara in pain any longer. She takes the additional steps, close enough to reach for Kara, who allows the touch on her upper arms. 

“You can do anything you set your mind to,” Cat assures her.

“Except get the environment on your legislative agenda or matter to the woman I’m in love with,” Kara bites back, but the fight goes out of her with it. She shakes her head, stepping away from Cat and casting one last glance around the bedroom. 

“Kara, please.” Cat’s not even horrified by how her voice breaks. “I didn’t do this to hurt you. Yes, the environment got shafted one more time, but I’m not out of office yet. You did such good work, and we can build on that again. I just need to get my numbers up.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Kara asks. “By hiding? Ignoring the questions? Pretending I don’t exist even when I’m on your arm at official events? I don’t even mind that you’re so ashamed of me you can’t make a public statement. I mind that you disrespect the people who voted for you--and the ones who didn’t--by claiming they won’t get it. People understand a lot of things, if only someone will bother to explain their choices.”

“Let’s look for the necklace together,” Cat suggests into the quiet, even though she has a National Security briefing, a budget meeting, and swearing in the new Nigerian ambassador all scheduled for the same 45 minutes. “And I will keep explaining to you, until you get it.”

Kara’s features harden in a way Cat has never seen before. 

“You know what? Fuck the necklace. I already lost my mom. A stupid piece of metal isn’t going to bring her back. And you patronizing me isn’t going to bring back what I thought we had, either.”

“Oh come on,” Cat begins, but Kara is marching toward the door already. She turns back, once she has a hold of the door handle. “This can’t be how I lose you.”

“Lose me?” Kara repeats it back, like it’s funny. She’s smiling around the words, but there’s none of her usual warmth or easy happiness. “Lose _me?_ Oh, Madam President, you’ve got bigger problems than that. You didn’t just lose your girlfriend. You lost my vote.”

As the magnitude of what Kara is saying hits Cat like a meteorite, she’s vaguely aware of the door opening and slamming shut. Staggering toward the nearest chair, Cat has only just sat down when Siobhan comes barreling in. 

“Ma’am? Are you okay?”

Cat shakes her head. No, she is anything but okay. 

She isn’t sure she ever will be again. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat has to pick up the pieces after the big breakup. She has some questions to ask, and some home truths to face.

“Madam President?” Lucy comes knocking at the bedroom door, no doubt having drawn the short straw after Siobhan’s whispered phone call to Hank, who’s meeting with the leadership in Gotham today. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” Cat says, as she tugs the sheets straight, flattening out the last creases. The room looks almost spotless now, as though nothing was ever disturbed. She’s not sure what scared Siobhan more: the brief, almost-catatonic state for a couple of minutes, or the frenzied tidying that’s been in motion since. “Did you need something?”

“I just… I heard Kara was here. And I went to see her earlier-”

“You had no right!” Cat turns on her then, stalking the distance in her bare feet. Lucy is one of the few people she still has a height advantage over without heels. “Whatever your little mission was, Lane, you’ve only succeeded in upsetting her further. She was here, in tears, looking for her mother’s necklace, talking about moving to Metropolis.”

“That does seem to be her plan, yes,” Lucy admits, but she doesn’t wilt under the heat of Cat’s angry attention. She deserves some grudging credit for that. “You know what? It feels like five o’clock to me.”

It isn’t quite, Cat confirms with a glance at her watch, but she lets Lucy move to the bar and pour them ridiculous measures of Scotch without complaint. When Cat accepts the glass, she notices her hand is trembling. How unusual. 

“I’m sorry if I made it worse,” Lucy begins, taking a seat on the very same couch where Cat and Kara spent a very enjoyable date. “But I know her sister, a little bit. The leaks on top of everything else… I felt like I had to clean up the mess I’d made, you know?”

“You’ve always been too responsible for your own good.” Cat takes a hearty sip, and lets it burn gently down the back of her throat. “But this mess is entirely of my making. That’s not ego.” She waves a finger while still holding the glass, the better to emphasize her point. “The damage was entirely Cat Grant-inflicted. I’m the one who didn’t speak up for her. I treated her like a shameful little secret and then got mad at the voters for treating her exactly that way too.”

Lucy shrugs. It’s clear she doesn’t disagree, and Cat doesn’t deserve platitudes that she wasn’t so wrong, that anyone else might have done the same. 

“We could have advised you better, found a way to get through to you sooner. And we dropped the ball on legislation. Now Luthor has made the gun bill toothless, and wants a joint press conference to rub our faces in it.”

Cat snorts. “Over my dead body. On second thoughts, don’t give her ideas. I’m surprised Max hasn’t already tried to wheedle his way in. He won’t win the Republican nomination without her backing.”

“We’re anticipating a statement from him any moment,” Lucy concedes. “Do you need us to cancel the rest of your day?”

“No, no, it’s always best to keep busy.” Cat stands up from her seat and puts her drink down. An idea strikes. Scurrying across the room, she gets down on her knees to pull the old briefcase out from under the bed. Her father’s, handed down to her as a relic rather than anything to carry around, but Cat had found a use for its worn leather and squeaking hinge. The staff know about it, and every so often she’ll find something returned to it that she’s left out, but there’s never been any actual discussion.

Sure enough, as it opens with a soft squeal, Cat sees the long silver chain and solid pendant nestled amongst some of her most sentimental keepsakes. There’s the flag from Robert’s coffin, still neatly folded into one corner. The hat they’d brought Carter home from the hospital wearing, in a pleasingly neutral lemon instead of the default pale blue. There are letters and greeting cards and finger paintings, all of them too precious to ever be on display in homes that are not her own. It’s the safest place in her life, so of course Kara’s necklace would find its way there.

“I found it,” Cat says, more to herself than anything. “Lucy? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Lucy sets her glass down on the table as Cat comes back to the sofa opposite. “I guess you know by now I’ll answer honestly.”

“Mmm.” Cat takes a sip from what’s left of her drink, before cradling the crystal in her lap. “If Robert hadn’t died when he did... If it hadn’t been so sudden and… I suppose what I’m trying to ask is, would I be President today?”

“Ma’am, due respect, I don’t think that’s what you’re asking.”

“It is. I know what I’m asking. So tell me.”

Lucy takes a long, slow drink. She drains the glass and sets it down carefully. She sighs long and low, like she’s been holding it the whole three years she’s worked on the campaign and in the White House. 

“What you’re asking, if you don’t mind me saying, is if you hadn’t been afforded the special protection of a sudden widow… if you had been subject to a character debate back then, would you have passed? If people had looked more closely, and your opponents hadn’t learned that the public don’t like cheap shots at the bereaved… would you have won the election?”

“Thank god you never worked for one of my newspapers,” Cat replies with a snort. “Concision is key, Lane. Get to the point.”

“The answer is… I don’t know,” Lucy admits. “But if that Cat Grant had shown up to the debates? To the town halls? Well, that would have been a sight to see. I came to work for you because I remembered all those times you took people down with brilliant words and righteous fury. To a lot of little girls then, and right now, you were a superhero ma’am. I think you still can be.”

Cat nods in silent acknowledgment as Lucy’s phone pings with a flurry of messages. 

“Lord is live on FOX. Do you want to…”

“You get back downstairs,” Cat says. “I need to check in on Carter and then we’ll deal with whatever Lord says, as a team. Tell Hank to get a strategy together and I’ll see you all in his office.”

“Yes ma’am. One more thing?”

“Lucy…”

“It’s just… Kara seems like a really special person. If there’s a way to get her back, you should go for it. I know I’m all about the optics, the politics but… if you were a man, or she was, the scrutiny wouldn’t be quite so intense. Something to think about, anyway.”

Cat watches her leave, a little thunderstruck. If even her Deputy Chief of Staff is advocating a fight for Kara, then how badly has Cat let them both down?

There’s a tingling in her fingers, that elusive floating feeling in the back of her head. She’s about to be inspired, but doesn’t dare push too hard just yet. Carter. Seeing Carter will help, it always does. 

***

Alex is waiting in the living room when Kara gets home. The flattened packing crates she pulled out of the closet before heading to the White House lie on the rug like an accusation. 

“How did it go?” Alex isn’t angry, she’s genuinely asking.

“Well, I pretty much told the leader of the free world to go fuck herself for breaking my heart, so pretty good.”

“Wow.”

“Not wow. Ow,” Kara clarifies, and by the time she lets the tears fall, Alex is holding her up in a full-body hug offensive. It’s hard to tell how long they stand there, gently swaying as Kara lets the last depths of what she’s been through come out. It’s hardly the first time she’s cried over it all, but every other time has been tempered by hope. That it’s a temporary blip they can get past, that Cat will be the good person Kara knows she is, instead of just another politician. 

Now there’s just a big, horrible ending, and a future that Kara can’t quite find enthusiasm for. 

She watches Alex check her phone, and then pretend too hard that she didn’t.

“What?” She snatches the phone from her sister. “No more hiding things from me. I deserve to know what people are saying about me. I can take it.”

The screen glows back into life. Astra has sent a text: _M. Lord live press conference with Luthor. Don’t let K near TV._

Sighing, Kara reaches for the remote and they both turn toward the television screen with something like dread. 

“We don’t have to, y’know.” Alex offers, putting an arm around Kara’s shoulders as she comes to sit on the sofa. “We could put on Netflix and watch Gilmore Girls until the sun comes up tomorrow.”

“Tempting,” Kara admits. “But let’s do this.” She flips to FOX. “I mean, after everything, how bad can it be?”

***

Carter is dutifully doing his homework in front of the television, the volume just low enough that Cat wouldn’t have known it was on from the hallway.

“Well, if it isn’t my son and heir,” she says, greeting him with a kiss to the top of his head. There’s product in his once baby-soft curls, but she doesn’t wince too noticeably. Still persisting in growing up too fast. “What worldly wisdom are you learning today?”

“Uh… geography?” He frowns at some kind of map. “Do you think I’ll ever need to know this much about mountains? I mean, they’re just kind of… there. I don’t really want to climb any of them.”

“I don’t think that’s really the deciding factor, sweetheart.” Cat picks up his history textbook on the Civil War, ready to flip idly through it. She’s frankly a little stunned when Carter snatches it back. “Excuse me?”

He considers a moment before opening the book himself and pulling a piece of paper from it. “Fine. You were going to find out anyway. It’s my interim report card for History.”

“Since when do you keep report cards from me?” Cat doesn’t like the sound of this one bit. She skims the single page, ignoring the ritual presidential ass-kissing that every external communique carries these days, and finds the meat of it in the last paragraph.

_Carter is exceptionally bright but refuses to be drawn on any particular position on an issue. A key component of this class is learning to construct an argument, but he refuses to turn in anything but the most factual of reports. I’ve included some pointers and am available to discuss this with you further as required._

“Is this true?” Cat asks, keeping her tone level. 

Carter shrugs. “I mean, I guess? Why does everything have to be an argument anyway? What happened to seeing both sides?”

“Well a good argument acknowledges the points of the other side,” Cat says. “It then goes on to refute them. We talked about all this, what, two years ago?”

“And I told you, I’m not some great communicator like you, Mom.”

“Don’t think throwing in a compliment will get me off the topic,” Cat warns him. She expects that from outsiders, not her own flesh and blood. “I’ve never known you to ignore a teacher’s instructions. And you sure as hell know how to argue with me when it comes to bedtime, so what’s going on?”

“It’s not that easy, okay?” Carter pleads. “Sure, I can argue with you, but if I take any kind of position where other people can hear me, suddenly it’s all “the President thinks” or “Cat Grant says” but they’re using my words. Like everything I say is your official position. Then I get everyone coming at me, wanting to debate me. Which only makes it worse. I love you, Mom. But I’m not gonna make myself a target for every kid or teacher who wants to get political.”

“Carter-”

“No, don’t tell me to ‘rise above’ or whatever Mom-talk you’re going to try on me. I’ve seen how quickly you ran away from Kara when she caused you a big public scandal. I’m not going to be the next reason you have trouble at work. So I don’t take a position. It’s better this way, trust me.”

Cat kneels on the floor next to him, relieved when he accepts her hug. He’s never been one for big speeches, and the effort has him trembling against her. 

“Oh Carter, my sweet boy. It’s okay. It’s okay, I promise.”

“You’re not disappointed?” He asks, voice muffled by her sleeve. 

“In you?” Cat pulls back to look him in the face. “Never.” She kisses his forehead, before standing again. “In myself? Well, that’s another story.”

“No, Mom, I didn’t mean to-”

Cat shushes him gently. “No, I didn’t realise the environment I was creating. I was so focused on keeping my job, on being president for another term, that I forgot what I owe the people who already voted me in for this one. That commitment didn’t end because the Republicans started looking for a challenger.”

Carter nods at the screen, where Lillian Luthor is ceding the podium on the Senate steps to Lord. “Even if that challenger is a total douche?”

Usually she would pout at the name-calling, but Cat can feel the stirrings of her next great plan. She pulls her phone from her pocket and calls Hank.

“Madam President-”

“Get James in the briefing room. Now. And pull in every reporter you can find. Standing room only, Hank. Understand?”

“Just tell me you’re not resigning. Because while Vice President Marsdin is a very capable woman-”

“Resign?” Cat says with a snort. “Over my dead body, Mr Henshaw. Tell James to get the podium and the room good and warm. I’m coming down.”

“Mom?” Carter asks. 

“Keep the TV on darling. There’s going to be a show.”

She kisses him goodbye and bolts for the bedroom. Her shoes are easily retrieved, and fixing her makeup isn’t the trainwreck she feared, just a few minutes in front of the bathroom mirror for that and taming her hair into its very calmest curls. 

Before stepping out of her bedroom, Cat picks Kara’s necklace up from where it’s waiting on the coffee table. She hesitates for only a moment before slipping it over her head and letting it nestle in place beneath her blouse.

There. Ready for battle. 

The agents fall in step as soon as she’s on the stairs, silent and comforting as ever. They don’t ask where she’s going, simply follow and adapt accordingly, other agents weaving in and out as they pass through different parts of the West Wing.

Outside the Press Secretary’s office, Cat pauses to catch her breath. If she starts this, unscripted, there’s no taking it back. This speech has to be the kind that rouses public support, that appeals to Americans to be their very best selves. Most days she knows she can hit that note, but it’s rarely with stakes like these.

Cat touches the pendant at the base of her throat, solid and cool, and remembers what she’s fighting for. A better country, a more accepting one whose leader answers to the voters. One where loving Kara can’t be anything other than the beautiful thing that it is. A place where her son can have an opinion without worrying, where her staff can come to work each day and be sure they’re working for the kind of woman they put in office in the first place. 

Yes, Cat Grant always pays her debts, in full and on time. She’s been a little remiss on that last part, but there’s no time like the present. Pushing the door open a fraction, she can see James at the podium, his broad shoulders tensed. He’s taking heat on Lord’s press conference, just as he has multiple times a day for weeks.

It stops here. It stops now. She gives the nod to Hank, at the back of the packed press room and the only one looking out for her. Lucy and Winn stand either side of him, steady and resolute. This is her team, and Cat needs to do them proud. 

With a simple gesture, Hank cues up James, who finishes his answer in record time. When the clamor of questions rises again, he soothes the crowd with those big, capable hands of his. 

“Ladies and gentlemen: the President of the United States.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well I guess this chapter has been a long timing coming, and it all sort of poured out at once. 
> 
> Cat's speech, Kara's reaction... and an ending. Happy or not? Well, you'll have to read to find out.

Kara is ready to punch the screen, listening to Lord talk. On and on he drones about the ‘gay agenda’ and the ‘distracted’ president. He doesn’t come after Kara’s character this time, but he still gets in plenty of disgusting remarks.

Just as she’s about to turn off in disgust, the yellow news ticker announces that they’ll be going live to the White House with Press Secretary James Olsen. The anchor finally acknowledges that as soon as Lord’s speech ends, and Kara’s more than a little gleeful that it steals all attention from Maxwell. No one is analyzing his words or talking about his message. They just want to know why the White House is getting all impromptu.

As the second anchor notes, this kind of interruption, especially in prime-time, would suggest that the president herself is going to speak. “I’d say it’s a scandal, but the Grant White House has been wrapped in one of those for weeks now. Is President Grant finally going to have her say after months of ‘no comment’?”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Angela” the first anchor says with a chuckle, and it’s all the more patronizing coming from yet another grey-haired white guy. Kara feels something stirring inside her. 

“I’m going to get changed out of this,” she says, needing a moment to herself. Alex nods, still flipping the bird intermittently at images of Maxwell Lord. 

Kara retreats to her bedroom, not sure why getting out of her casual things is suddenly so important. “Alex, call me when Olsen is on, okay?”

“Okay!” Alex calls back. 

Kara stands in front of her full-length mirror and frowns at the sloppy braid in her hair. She swaps out her soft, athletic underwear first, dropping the sports bra and shorts on the floor. Reaching for the top drawer of her dresser, it’s icy-blue lace that comes out first. Yes. Perfect. 

She’s never gotten ready so quickly in her life. The light blue shift dress practically jumps out of the closet at her, and she pairs it with a white cardigan and matching flats, leaving her looking smart but feeling comfortable. It’s not quite donning her battle dress, but Kara feels more herself than she has in days. All that’s left to do is pull her hair down and brush it out, and Kara’s relieved when it sits in calms waves down past her shoulders. 

Her glasses she leaves behind, a smudge of lipgloss and mascara enough to wake her face up from its habitual post-cry state. 

“Kara!” Alex calls out. “Olsen’s on, and he says that Cat will be addressing them shortly.”

“Hey, sis?” Kara ventures as she returns to the living room. “Does your FBI-issue beast of a car come with the flashing lights?”

“I have them, yeah. Where are we going on blues and twos?”

“Not far. You know Pennsylvania Avenue, right?” Kara knows her smile is weak, a little nervous. 

“Kara, she might get up there and disown you once and for all,” Alex warns. “I mean, she’s fighting for her career, her legacy. This might be one hell of a mess.”

“Then we’ll put the radio on,” Kara decides. “Turn around if it gets nasty. But trust me, Alex, it won’t. That’s not who she is. I’ve been so mad at her, but I just have this feeling… if this were a movie, it’s where I’d finally get my happy ending.”

Alex stands, keys in hand. She still looks doubtful, but there’s never been a crazy scheme she hasn’t been up for. “This isn’t a movie, Kara. It’s Washington, and people are dicks.”

“I’m so glad that being with Astra has brought out the romantic in you,” Kara says with a sigh. “Come on, let’s go see if Cat ever really loved me.”

“No pressure,” Alex snorts, but they break into a jog to get to the car that much quicker. She slaps the temporary emergency lights on the roof and guns the engine. “You’re going to need your seatbelt.”

“I always wear it,” Kara points out, but she clips it extra firmly all the same. They pull out with a screech of tires, and she tells herself the churning feeling in her stomach is just about Alex’s driving.

***

“Good afternoon,” Cat begins. 

She’s never been afraid of a crowd. There are so many times she’s positively fuelled by it. Today it feels different, like their very gazes are an interrogation. There’s only one trick left to get her through this. 

She searches the throng of journalists and finds her target. Lois. Pen and paper at the ready as always, immaculately dressed. She looks as put together as Cat hopes to project. If it’s possible to channel that, Cat’s going to do it with a steadying stare. Lois stares right back without blinking, and then it’s _fine_.

“You might be wondering why I’ve called a press conference, and I plan to lay out all my reasons in the next few minutes. The first, as you all have worked out, is as a response to the machinations and bad faith politics of Senators Lord and Luthor.”

The cameras continue to click, the lights blaze on, but the room is silent beyond the scratching of pens and tapping of keys.

“It used to be in Washington that bipartisanship was a worthy goal to aim for, proof of politics functioning at its very best. Compromise and partnership, putting personal gain aside for the greater good of the country and its citizens. When the White House brokered a deal with Lillian Luthor to end the scourge of gun violence on our streets--no, that’s not true…” Cat hears the gasps at admitting the failings of the bill.

“It was a start, that’s all. A first foray into bringing common sense and safety to gun ownership in America. We made our compromises, and we were betrayed in the final hour. That’s not the kind of person I want to do business with. That’s not the kind of person Metropolis elected to be their Senator. Lillian? You should be better than that. We can all be better than we’ve been, lately.”

The murmurs are racing around the room. Cat casts her gaze over the assembled press. Sees the finest journalists from papers she once owned and ones she hates to read. Conservative, liberal, the last few genuine neutrals in the game, they all look back at her expectantly. Beyond them, the camera lenses that reflect back tiny versions of herself. A mirror to the country that’s hopefully listening to her right now, and finally getting what they deserve from her.

“That goes for you too, Max. Senator Lord has served California well over recent years, and we worked together many times when I was Governor. I like to think we kept each other honest, even when our ideological differences seemed too great to overcome. Now he’s running for President, as he likes to tell us at every opportunity.” Cat pauses. The autocue reader is resolutely blank, there are no notecards in her hands. She has to see this through, and it’s not getting any easier as she forges ahead. 

Her staff wait at the side of the room now, making room for more arriving reporters. James, Hank, Lucy, and Winn. She shouldn’t be entirely surprised when Carter comes to join them, Siobhan leading him in.

“He won’t tell you this, but Max was one of the first to offer me condolences when my husband passed. They were great friends, and that Maxwell Lord would never have attacked a young woman publicly for her appearance or sexuality. He would never have called on the machine of big government to throw someone out of office because of the gender of the person they loved. I can’t tell you how heartbroken I am to learn that our old friend Max has changed.”

She’s in it now. Sink or swim time. A casual flick of her wrist, the press of Kara’s pendant beneath her fingertips, just for a second. 

“I don’t much care if that’s because he’s thrown his lot in with the Republicans, and I particularly don’t care what insults he has to throw at me. But you’d be wise, Senator, not to pick a fight with Kara Danvers. She’s a better person than either one of us, and if you challenge her to a comparison of character, well that’s a battle you’ve already lost.”

“I came to the White House expecting to run the country and raise my son without a partner by my side. That was a compromise I accepted, and one you all agreed to when you voted for me. Even those of you who didn’t cast a ballot with my name largely had the grace to respect my situation.” This part has to land. It has to go well, or Cat thinks she really might be finished in Democratic politics. They’ll have a primary challenger lined up before her New Hampshire paperwork is even filed. 

“That all changed when a brilliant and compassionate environmentalist walked into my life quite unexpectedly. The daughter of a great judge and leading scientist, she has dedicated her life to lobbying for people and things that badly need protection and preservation. She campaigned for the children of Metropolis to be given better than failing schools. She came to the White House to tell me and my staff that if we don’t take action, there won’t be a country or a planet to govern before long.” 

A sideways glance. Carter has placed his hand over his heart, their secret sign, and Cat feels buoyed by it. 

“The truth is, Kara Danvers is too good for me. I asked her to come to the State Dinner anyway, and you’ve all seen the photographs and speculation over what has happened since. I’m here today to tell you that yes, we have been in a relationship. One I refuse to be ashamed of, and one I have never lied to you about. I am, and have always been, a proudly bisexual woman. That’s been a matter of record for some twenty years, and you all knew it when I ran for Governor, and for President.”

“There are people in this country who disagree with what they call a lifestyle. I say to them, on behalf of everyone they disagree with, that this is not a lifestyle. These are our lives. We have the same rights as every other American to live, to love, and to learn. No longer will I accept that bigots get to set the agenda in our great nation. You are free not to live your life in this way, but you will not prevent others from doing so. That is the freedom so many people have fought and died for. As your President, I will defend that freedom with every last second I have in this office.”

The applause is unexpected, Cat almost didn’t pause for breath at all. She blinks at them, but she isn’t done yet. Words are useful, her stock in trade. She’s relied on them her whole life to save her, but they aren’t enough on their own. 

“I’ve had two great loves in my life. I lost one to a heart attack, a sudden tragedy I could do nothing about. I lost the other just this week, and the fault is entirely my own. You deserved better, Kara. You deserve someone who will protect and defend your reputation, in all the ways I’ve just promised to defend my fellow Americans.”

“So in honor of what you tried to teach me, I’ll be sending a new environmental bill to the floor of the House. It’s the one so many Congresspeople and Senators have already pledged support to, so it shouldn’t take them long to make that bill into the law of the land. We’re going to reduce emissions, we’re going to invest in alternative energy and all the jobs it brings with it.”

The murmurs are much louder this time, the room still in her grasp but with emotions building. It’s time to bring it home.

“And yes, we’re coming for the guns, too. Not in the sneaky, backhanded way of Luthor and Lord, but because there _is_ a balance to be found between owning guns and the safety of our children. No person in this country or any other needs an arsenal in their home. No background check is too much if it saves even one life that would otherwise be lost to gun violence. Nobody outside of an active warzone needs weapons designed for war, and we’ll be taking those back in a sensible, measured way. The Second Amendment will stand, with the common sense adjustments for modern life that every other law is subject to. Enough is enough is enough. We’ve all been cowards, and I include myself in that, for far too long.”

Cat blinks just a fraction too long, pictures Kara’s smile across the pillows, bright and full of hope. 

“So Max, enjoy running for president as much as you like telling people that you’re ‘running for President’. Make good promises and be sure if you are elected that you can follow through on them. You owe people that much. But you keep the name ‘Kara Danvers’ out of your mouth, until you’re operating on her level. 

“Senators, Congresspeople, and every other lawmaker in this nation, I invite you to join me in saving it. Vote your conscience, vote for your constituents, and let’s make some real change. I’ll be ready and waiting to sign those bills into law.”

“Because my name is Catherine Grant, and I _am_ the President.”

The applause breaks then, the reporters standing for her with a few right-wing exceptions. Cat nods in acknowledgment, but she doesn’t want to bask in what should be a victory, not while the ache of missing Kara colors everything she says and does. Carter is the first to reach her, and she pulls him into a brief but much-needed hug.

“Madam President, everyone wants a follow-up,” James says, bodily blocking the press room door until someone pulls it shut behind him.

“We’ll discuss that back in the Oval,” Cat tells him, looking around for Siobhan. With her assistant nowhere in sight, Cat leads Carter back to the office along with her senior staff. “We’re going to go hard on inclusivity and diversity. It motivates people, and I’d rather rock the vote than scare people into staying home.”

Hank places a hand on her shoulder as they pause in the doorway. “You did good out there. I’m very proud to say I serve at the pleasure of the president.”

“You can all kiss ass later,” Cat announces, but she pats his hand in recogition first. “Right now, you all need to start strategizing a political war on three fronts. Think you can handle that?”

“Yes ma’am,” Lucy replies for all of them, and they descend on the couches to start debating.

“Agent Arias?” Cat calls out, and sure enough Sam appears from the Portico. With a nod from Cat, one of Carter’s detail appears to take him back to the residence. 

“That was some speech, ma’am,” Sam says, actually extending her hand to shake Cat’s own. It’s then that Cat sees the otherwise hidden cord bracelet next to Sam’s watch, unmistakeable in its rainbow hues. Well, Hank owes Cat fifty on _that_ one. 

“Is there any chance we can do a one-car excursion to a private residence?” Cat asks, careful no one overhears them. “And by that I mean your car, Samantha. Not the obvious SUV-tank hybrids.”

“Ma’am it was a good speech, but nobody ever talked well enough for _that_ to be feasible. Besides, I don’t think it’s going to be necessary.”

The room has gone eerily quiet as Sam nods towards the other door, the one that leads out to Siobhan’s desk. There in the doorway stands Kara, a vision in pastel blue and white. She’s a perfect contrast to Cat’s serious grays, and utterly gorgeous with it. Cat fumbles for something to say, an order to give the staff, some sort of fluency to compare with the speech she’s just given.

She reaches for the words, but this time they don’t come.

***

Kara’s so glad she isn’t crying.

Oh she cried in the car, and when Alex hugged her before that last dash toward the White House security gate. She dried most of the tears as she was signed in, her permanent guest status still in place. Siobhan, in her genie-like way, had come to meet her halfway to the Oval Office, offering up a tissue with a sigh. 

That’s why Kara is looking almost presentable as she stands on the threshold of the best-known workplace on Earth. Cat seems to have lost her voice after all that magnificent speechmaking, and Kara knows it’s her turn to speak up again.

“Hi.” Seems to be enough. The staff melt into the background as Cat approaches, her expression equal parts wary and hopeful. “So I heard this lady on the radio on the way here. It was crazy, she used her legislative agenda to apologize to her girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Cat repeats, and god she’s close enough to touch. “Don’t you mean ex-girlfriend?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Kara reminds her. She has more to say, but Cat distracts her by fumbling with something around her neck.

“I found this,” Cat explains, as she pulls it up over her head and then holds out out in both hands to Kara. “I know how important it is to you, so I could…”

Kara bows her head just a fraction, giving the silent okay. She feels even better with the necklace back around her neck where it belongs. Cat fusses with Kara’s hair, fixing it so the waves fall evenly again, and that’s all the waiting Kara’s prepared to do. 

Grabbing Cat carefully around the waist, she hugs her close. It’s just a matter of an inch or so then until they’re kissing. Deep, apologetic kisses that say everything else still buzzing between them, their lips meeting again and again, the playful flick of Kara’s tongue met by the bolder motion of Cat’s.

They fit, back together like they were never apart. Eventually someone clears their throat, and the briefest illusion of privacy is shattered. 

“So,” Cat begins, not pulling away from Kara just yet. “I still have a country to run. I can’t ask you to help on the environmental policy, not if I want to avoid an ethics investigation. But how do you feel about coming with me to be the face of a more progressive and welcoming United States of America?”

“I think…” Kara doesn’t mean to hesitate, but her heart is pounding and she’s more than a little overwhelmed. “I think I’d go anywhere with you, so long as you ask me.”

“Oh, I’m asking,” Cat confirms, stepping back and smoothing down her blazer. “It’s going to mean some interviews, a few speeches at some dinners. That’s a lot of couture and heels, so if you’d rather not…”

“I will,” Kara answers, stealing one more kiss. “When do we start?”

“Now!” Comes the chorus from senior staff over on the couches. 

“What do you say?” Cat asks, extending her hand to Kara. “I know we still have a lot to talk about, but I think this might be a start?”

“A fresh start,” Kara agrees, letting Cat lead her towards the chairs that face the staff on the sofas. “Just one thing I want to bring with us from before, though?”

“Name it,” Cat says, running her thumb over Kara’s hand where she’s still holding it.

“That I love you,” Kara says, with witnesses for the first time. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” Cat reassures, making Kara’s heart soar all over again. It’s not scary anymore, she’s no longer on any kind of edge. She’s right where she’s supposed to be, and it looks like Cat feels the same. “I love you, too.”

“Aww, you guys,” Winn interrupts the moment, wiping away tears. 

“Thank you, Mr. Schott,” Hank takes over. “Ms. Danvers, welcome to the team. Now, let’s talk about who you both want to sit down with first. James will run us through what each network is offering.”

Kara forces herself back into work mode, but doesn’t let go of Cat’s hand as they sit in their respective seats. One good PR campaign won’t solve everything, and there’s going to be resistance at every turn. But Cat stood up for her, will keep standing up for her, and Kara will be more than proud to do the same in return. 

She touches the necklace, back in its rightful place, and wonders what her parents would think if they could be here now. They’d be proud, she realizes. Proud that she’s found love, and that it’s going to be a platform to do good, to make the country and the world a little safer for everyone. 

Tuning back in time just to hear Cat vetoing an interview with Kelly Ripa, Kara squeezes her hand in solidarity. 

“Do you need anything?” Cat whispers as the staff pick up the argument between themselves.”

“Just you,” Kara replies in a whisper of her own. “Oh, and maybe some of those donuts?”

Cat throws her head back and laughs. “I think that can be arranged. Thank you, Kara. For coming back. For forgiving me.”

“How could I not?” Kara asks in return. She settles back in her chair, looking around the Oval Office in wonder one more time, and realizes she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be. That’s good enough for a fresh start. As ‘Fish Hooks’ McCarthy once almost said, they already have their health and strength, so maybe just maybe, they’ll manage to steal the rest. 


End file.
